


Hatchling

by SailorChibi



Series: Hatchling [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult baby, Age Play, Angel Dean Winchester, Bathing, Canon Compliant, Carrying, Castiel's Grace, Castiel's Handprint, Cuddling, Daddy!Cas, Dean Needs A Hug, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enochian, Fluff, Gen, Grace - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Little!Dean, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Panic Attacks, Picture Books, Profound Bond, Protective Castiel, Spanking, baby!dean - Freeform, bottles, consensual ageplay, lots of comfort, nestlings, pull ups, season 6, strollers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 65
Words: 139,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before God left, He gave instructions for a new method of creating angels: one that allows an angel to take a consenting adult human as their child. By feeding them grace over the course of an unspecified amount of years, the human's - now known as a nestling's - soul will change enough to be able to produce a modified form of grace, thereby keeping angels from dying out.</p><p>After the end of the apocalypse and with Sam having returned to Stanford, Dean is at a loss. When Castiel offers to take Dean as his nestling, Dean has no idea how far Castiel plans to take this - or how much he'll end up needing and enjoying it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, crazy with the non-sexual age play fiction right now. I can't help myself; I'm sorry. I came up with this randomly after realizing how limited ageplay stories can be, when it's not taking place in an AU where adult babies are widely accepted/recognized. That's kind of what I did, but I also cheated because now angel!Cas can still carry Dean around. No, really, that was my reasoning. ~~sorry not sorry~~
> 
> The title: a [nestling](http://birding.about.com/od/birdingglossary/g/nestling.htm) is a young bird that is several days old and is covered with down, whereas a [hatchling](http://birding.about.com/od/birdingglossary/g/hatchling.htm) is a very recently hatched baby bird that may not have [...] any ability to care for itself.

Dean's life right at that moment was comprised of his baby and the open road. With the windows rolled down and the music cranked up about as loud as it would go, he and the Impala were eating up the miles at a pace that would've gotten him pulled over had there been a police car around. Fortunately, it had been at least fifteen minutes since Dean had seen another car, never mind a cop. 

Considering that the Apocalypse was behind them and the world had come through mostly intact, Dean should have been happy. Lucifer and Michael were locked back in the box, Castiel and Gabriel were upstairs doing damage control, there were fewer demons to worry about, and - most importantly - no more sons of bitches trying to get him and Sam to say yes. For once, Dean could sit back and focus on saving people and hunting things the way that they used to. 

Life was pretty much perfect.

Except for one little snag. 

Not for the first time since Dean had gotten the call from Bobby about a possible haunting in Idaho, he risked taking his eyes off the road to steal a quick glance at the passenger's seat. Just long enough to confirm that yup, it was still empty: Sam hadn't changed his mind about heading back to Stanford and somehow teleported his way into the car when Dean wasn't looking. And after two months, with Sam's glowing report still ringing in his ears, it was probably time to stop hoping.

Dean let out a sigh and leaned his head against his hand, trying to let the pounding music and the whipping wind chase the thoughts of his brother out of his head. He registered, but didn't really react to, the faint sound of wings until a hand reached out and switched the music off. In the ringing silence, Dean frowned at the road and bitchily wondered whether he should get around to angel proofing the Impala.

"I thought I told you not to touch the radio," he muttered.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, and then he added, "I needed to talk to you, and you won't be able to hear otherwise."

"Don't tell me heaven's gotten up in arms about Michael after all."

"No. Surprisingly, the other angels have taken the news calmly."

"I bet your upgrade and Gabriel hanging around probably helps." Dean smirked at the expression on Castiel's face. Yeah, that's what he thought. _Help_ was definitely a relative term when it came to Gabriel, as in sometimes you seriously wondered whether his help was worth the trouble of having him around.

"It has taken both of us," Castiel allowed. 

"I'm a little surprised he didn't take off."

"Gabriel, much as he would never be willing to admit it, has missed our home. I believe he is enjoying it no matter how loudly he complains. Raphael has taken over much of the busy work, which helps."

Dean shrugged a little, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. "That's good, Cas. I'm glad to hear it."

They drove in silence for another few minutes, though Dean could feel those otherworldly blue eyes staring at him. Once upon a time, that probably would have bothered him. But he'd had a lot of practice getting used to that penetrating stare, and - if you got him drunk enough - he might even admit that he was a little glad to feel it again. 

After the ground closed up and it became obvious that Michael and Lucifer were no longer going to be a problem, Castiel and Gabriel hung around just long enough to offer up some healing free of charge before they returned to heaven. There had been very little communication from the two of them since then, and honestly Dean had reached the point where he figured that was how it was going to be from now on. Some angels interacted quite a bit with Earth, but others not so much.

He, Bobby and Sam had picked themselves up and gone back to Bobby's house for all of three days before Sam announced he wanted to go back to Stanford. One of the hardest things that Dean had ever had to do was not beg his brother to stay. Sam had watched him like he was expecting that, watched him the whole time he packed, and when Dean sent him off at the bus station with a manly hug and no sign of any protests, the blinding smile Sam gave him was worth the hole he chewed in his cheek to keep quiet.

After that it was just him and Bobby, but it only took a day or two before Dean realized he was putting a cramp in Bobby's style. He only had to walk into the kitchen once and witnessed the way Bobby and Jody practically levitated away from each other before he hit the road.

That left him here, on the way to yet another hunt while blue eyes tried to stare into his soul. Or maybe they were. With an angel, you just never knew. Dean was content to wait it out, because having another person in the Impala with him - even if that person didn't exactly breathe - was kind of nice.

"I need to speak with you," Castiel said finally.

"So talk. As long as it doesn't involve stopping another apocalypse." Dean tried to make it sound like a joke, like his heart didn't start thudding triple time at the thought, but he wasn't sure how well he succeeded.

"No. I want you to become my nestling."

Dean slammed on the brakes. It was a damn good thing the road was otherwise empty, because the Impala skidded wildly at the sudden stop and the screeching of brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. As the car came to a stop, Dean jerked the wheel and let it coast onto the dirt on the side of the road. He sat there for a minute, breathing hard and hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"You what?" he asked flatly, not daring to look at the angel.

"I want you to become my nestling. It is a process through which -"

"Fuck, I know what it does," Dean barked, finally prying his hands off the wheel. He turned the car off automatically.

Angels had been known to humans - even the ones who were in the dark about the rest of the supernatural - for a while now, ever since God had decided that he was going to take off. And that was only because dear old daddy had decided to do one last favor before he skipped town, which was to insure that angels would never die out. After all, without God no new angels could be created the old way. Whether or not that was actually a good thing, well, it depended on who you asked.

The _new_ way involved an angel taking a consenting human as their child and feeding them grace over the course of an unspecified amount of years, until the human's - now nestling, in technical terms - soul had changed enough to be able to produce a modified form of grace. Nestlings were not nearly as strong as an actual angel, but were nevertheless head and shoulders above your average joe.

It was a process that didn't exactly sit right with a hell of a lot of hunters, Dean included. But angels were hard to kill (see: holy oil that initially only Castiel had access to and angel blades that had to be stolen from an existing angel) and there was that key note about consent, and over time the situation had boiled down into one of those blurry lines that no one looked at too closely.

Dean mulled all of this over in the span of a few seconds. What he knew about nestlings had come from John's journal and Bobby's books and what he'd heard from the occasional hunter. He'd seen nestlings before, everyone had, because angels with nestlings tended to remain on Earth until the nestling was old enough to ascend to heaven. And that took a really long time. 

His shoulders itched at the reminder of seeing adults, sometimes people older than him, dressed as and acting like children. Just because it was slowly getting more common, even to the point where some stores were starting to cater to nestlings, didn't mean that it sat right with him. It was weird. 

"That's weird, man."

"Dean."

"I can't believe you just asked me that," Dean mumbled, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. Now that he was no longer focused on driving, he could feel fatigue creeping in. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. And chances were, even when he had, he hadn't slept for more than a couple of hours. He did not have the mental stability necessary to get through this conversation right now.

"It is not weird," Castiel said firmly, sounding faintly insulted. "And it would be good for you."

"Good how? So you can parade me around to heaven as the angel who finally tamed Dean Winchester?"

" _Dean_."

Dean lifted his head, ignoring the little burn of shame in his belly. Okay, that was a low blow. Castiel had gone out of his way to keep Dean out of the hands of Michael, even when Dean himself wanted to give up. "Look, I -"

"You need a break." Castiel cut him off. "You've been driving yourself into the ground ever since Sam left, going from one hunt to another."

"I'm a hunter, that's what we do," Dean snapped.

"If you had somewhere to go, you would be more willing to rest."

That stung more than he was willing to admit. So what if he was feeling a little adrift just because Sam and Bobby had their own lives? He scowled. "I have a place. I can go see Lisa anytime I want."

Castiel just _looked_ at him, the son of a bitch, and Dean's scowl grew deeper. Fine, so maybe that wasn't quite true. He had thought about going to visit Lisa and maybe even staying with her for a while, but Lisa and Ben didn't have the type of lifestyle where he would be able to slip in and out without notice. Being with them would mean settling down. And while Sam was all for it, Dean couldn't imagine being happy like that. He didn't want to go there unless he was absolutely sure, and he wasn't.

As the silence dragged on, gradually becoming awkward, Castiel spoke again. This time, his voice was noticeably gentler. "Dean, you have been putting the needs of everyone else ahead of you all your life. Now that you don't have to do that anymore, you feel the need a new purpose. Please, at least think about accepting my request."

He turned his head away, staring blankly out the window. He could honestly say he had never really thought about this possibility before, even after Castiel had dragged him out of hell and he actually made the acquaintance of an angel. And now that it was being presented to him, he didn't know what to think.

"I want to take care of you, if you'll let me," Castiel added, so softly that it was barely audible.

Dean's head whipped around, but the angel was gone. He stared at the spot where Castiel had been, trying to wrap his head around the possible game changer that had just been dropped in his lap.

There was no telling how long he sat there for before his phone rang, startling him badly enough that he jumped and slammed his knees against the dash. Swearing, he groped around until he located his cell. It had slipped off the passenger seat and fallen to the floor. He jammed it to his ear and barked out a greeting.

"You sound cheerful. What, did you run into a witch on the way to Idaho?"

"No. It's nothing. I'm not even there yet." Dean exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face, blinking gritty eyes. 

Bobby knew him well enough to know when something was up, unfortunately. "What's wrong, then?"

"Nothing." Dean shook his head, even though Bobby couldn't even see him. "Did you need something?"

"I just called to tell you that there was another hunter in the area who took care of that haunting, so don't worry about it. Hole up and get some rest instead."

That rang a little too close to what Castiel had said for comfort. "I'm not that tired. There must be another hunt somewhere between where I am and Idaho, right?"

Bobby sighed. "You're running yourself ragged, boy. One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed 'cause you're not taking care of yourself and your brother's not there to watch your back. You know that, right?"

"I'm fine," Dean said stubbornly, bouncing his right leg in agitation. He didn't like this insinuation that he couldn't take care of himself. He'd been doing it just fine his whole life, with or without Sam, and just because Sam was back at Stanford didn't mean he couldn't keep it up.

"Right," Bobby drawled, sounding less than convinced. "And the fact that you can't stop yawning is coincidence."

Dean froze right in the middle of a yawn.

Apparently his silence said it all, because Bobby snorted. "That's what I thought. Get some sleep, ya idjit."

Muttering about old bastards who thought they were always right, Dean hung up and threw his phone back onto the passenger's seat. He pulled back out onto the road, though he didn't turn the radio back on. He listened to the wind whistling through the open window for a couple of minutes, firmly keeping his mind away from Castiel's offer.

Five minutes later, he grabbed his phone and called Bobby back.

"What do you know about nestlings, Bobby?"

To his credit, Bobby didn't hesitate. "Not as much as I'd like to. Word is pretty scarce on the concept. I know it involves the consumption of grace, and that it can take a while depending on the person and how strong the angel is."

"How long? And what kind of abilities do the nestlings end up with?"

"I can't say I've ever got my hands on a nestling so that I could ask."

Too long to be worth Dean's while, probably. He firmly pushed aside any and all thoughts about how nice it would be if he had just a little more strength when he was hunting, especially now that he was solo. Or the ability to fly or smite something that was trying to kill him. Because he hadn't come through the apocalypse just to say yes to another angel.

He shoved the little thought that putting someone else in the driver's seat for a change would be a relief even further down, refusing to acknowledge it. He was a hunter, and he sure as hell didn't need anyone to care for him.

"Dean."

"What?"

"What's going on?"

The intention was to say nothing. Instead, Dean found himself saying, "Cas asked me if I wanted to be his nestling."

Dead silence. Dean was tempted to bang his forehead against the steering wheel for even letting those words out of his mouth. This always happened when he got tired; he was more prone to letting his big mouth run away from him and it had gotten him in trouble more than once. Now Bobby was going to think he was weird. _Why_ hadn't he just kept quiet about it and told Castiel a firm no the next time the angel showed up?

"Look, it's not a big deal," he said quickly. 

"It's not?" 

"No!"

"So you're not considering saying yes."

This time the silence stretched even longer, and, even though he was still driving, Dean gave into temptation.

"Stop beating yourself up, idjit," Bobby ordered, and was it Dean's imagination or did he hear a hint of _amusement_ in Bobby's voice? 

"Call me back when you have another hunt," Dean mumbled, and then he hung up a second time.

It was a stupid idea, one of those weird angel things that Castiel sometimes didn't realize was inappropriate. So long as Dean didn't try to contact him for a few days - which would be easy, considering this was their first interaction in _two months_ , Castiel would forget that he had even asked.


	2. Chapter 2

"Seeing as how your pouty little Winchester is bent on drinking himself into an early grave, I'm guessing that your little offer didn't go over so well."

With the help of long experience, Castiel ignored the voice of his older brother. He focused even harder on watching Dean instead, hoping that Gabriel would take a hint and just go away. But just because he had agreed to return to heaven didn't mean that Gabriel was any less annoying, and less than ten seconds later a warm arm was draped around Castiel's shoulders. Even heavier wings followed, pinning him in place, so that even if he wanted to leave he'd have a hard time doing so. Castiel sighed.

"He is thinking about it," he said finally, not bothering to try and hide the annoyance in his tone. He still didn't look away from Dean, half-afraid that if he did the hunter might do something truly foolish. It hadn't taken him long to learn that when it came to the Winchesters, a split second could make all the difference.

It had been three long days since Castiel had made his initial offer. Three long days spent watching Dean hide in a hotel room and drink increasingly alarming amounts of alcohol while pouring over the local newspapers and the internet in the hopes of finding a hunt, because Bobby outright refused to hook him with one. Of course, even if he were to find one, Dean was so strung out on a lethal combination of booze, exhaustion and a lack of food that even the easiest of hunts would be enough to get him killed. 

"Yeah, looks like he's thinking real hard," Gabriel said wryly as Dean drained the last of a bottle of vodka. The human was swaying uneasily, and a lesser man probably would've passed out a long time ago. But this was Dean, and the word stubborn couldn't even begin to describe just how single-minded he could be. And right now, Dean wanted to be as drunk as possible while still remaining conscious.

"He passed the point of being able to think logically some time ago," Castiel admitted.

"So what are you waiting for, then?"

"I want Dean to come with me of his own free will, Gabriel."

"Ah yes, that whole consent business Dad made us all agree to." Gabriel hummed softly and straightened up, folding his arms. "Frankly I don't see why you want to do this anyway, Cassie. You know most of heaven has no particular fondness for any Winchester, much less this one. You won't be doing yourself any favors."

"Dean needs this."

"I'm not going to argue that, if this is how well he's doing on his own. I just don't see why you have to be the one to provide it to him."

"He's my friend."

"Yeah, well, I love Sam, but you don't see me asking the Sasquatch if he'd like to become my baby."

Castiel tipped his head and gave his brother his best knowing look, pleased when Gabriel's cheeks reddened ever so slightly. "Dean needs someone strong and capable of understanding him, but also someone that he can trust. The two of us already share a profound bond, which I believe will make the process easier on him. I _know_ him."

"Cassie -"

"He needs proof that he's never returning to hell."

That stopped Gabriel, just as Castiel had known that it would. Both angels looked back at the only human in the room. Dean was still standing, though he was wobbling a lot more, and finally seemed to decide it was time to sit. He half-fell onto one of the creaky motel beds, nearly ending up on the floor. But he didn't lie down. He just sat there on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, hands loose in his lap, an empty look in his eyes.

It was one of the saddest, most defeated sights Castiel had ever been witness to. 

"Damn," Gabriel muttered, letting out a low whistle as he successfully connected the dots. 

"Exactly," Castiel said with a nod. Not everyone knew about the nightmares that Dean suffered from, but Castiel was aware that they were of hell and the torture Dean had suffered. More than once, when he'd stayed with Sam and Dean during his brief stint of becoming human, Dean had woken up choking on screams. He refused to talk about what he was dreaming about, but based on what Castiel had witnessed when he raised the hunter from perdition, they were things no human should ever have to deal with.

And Dean couldn't deal with it on his own. Chances were no human could, so it wasn't a reflection on Dean. But unlike most people, Dean refused to give up. He was determined to keep his problems hidden from his friends and family, when what he needed most was to be taken back to a time when he couldn't do that. Dean needed to be freed of the responsibilities and choices that weighed him down so he could start to heal. He needed time to focus on himself and the easy sort of day to day living that he'd never had the opportunity to experience. 

Castiel could provide that for him. Ever since the day when he'd lifted Dean Winchester from hell, he'd _wanted_ to. He remembered cradling Dean's soul in his grace. That broken, bleeding soul had clung to him, desperate for comfort and affection that Castiel had tried his best to provide in the brief time they had been together. He hadn't understood the desire at first, and he suspected that his attempts at the time had been paltry, but the more time he spent around Dean and the more he watched Dean struggle to keep those needs hidden, the more he understood that he wanted to love Dean.

This provided the perfect chance, and he hadn't been lying: Dean needed to know that he would never be returning to hell, no matter what happened. Castiel was positive that a good percentage of his nightmares were based on that scenario alone. And what better way than to turn him into an angel? Dean would have a new childhood, a better one where he was cared for and had no worries, and the reassurance he needed to heal. Castiel would have a nestling, and the assurance that Dean would be with him forever.

It was a situation where everyone could win, if only he could get Dean to see that.

"You're gonna have a hell of a fight on your hands anyway," Gabriel said finally, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "I know what you're planning, and he's not gonna be okay with that."

"He will," Castiel said confidently. Sam had shown him how to use the internet, and there was a wealth of information out there that Castiel had eagerly devoured long before he'd approached Dean. He was positive that he knew how to help Dean, just like he was sure that this was the best way to do it. It might have been slightly unorthodox, as most nestlings didn't revert to a mental state as young as he wanted Dean to, but never let it be said that Castiel was afraid of a challenge. Those nestlings weren't as damaged as Dean was.

Gabriel shook his head, but he was smirking. "Whatever you say, little bro. I'm outta here before the fireworks start. Maybe I'll go bug Sammy..."

"You're supposed to be leaving Sam alone!" Castiel said, but he was speaking to no one: Gabriel was gone. He sighed and made himself visible, but Dean was so trashed that he didn't even notice the appearance of someone else in the room. Even when Castiel moved closer and stood over him, it was nearly a full minute before Dean dragged his head up.

The sheer despair in Dean's expression, upon closer inspection, could have made the most emotionless angel cry. Dean looked like he was beaten, like he had fought for so hard and for so long that he didn't even know how to keep fighting, much less have the strength or will to. Castiel reached out and gently placed a hand on Dean's hair, running his fingers through the greasy strands. He wanted so much to scoop Dean up and sweep him away to somewhere that was safe and quiet and private, where Dean could really let go, but he had to be cautious.

"Cas," Dean whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. It took a lot of effort for him to drag them open again. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you, Dean. I wanted to know if you had thought about my offer."

Dean blinked again. "Thought you'd forget," he said. 

"No. I didn't forget, and I won't no matter how long you try to stall for," Castiel told him. He used a small measure of grace to erase the alcohol from Dean's system, knowing that if he didn't Dean would wake up very ill. But it didn't make much difference. Dean was so exhausted from not sleeping that he continued to sway, now held up only by the hand on his head.

"You should," Dean mumbled. "I'm not good. Shouldn't be an angel. It's weird."

"It is not weird," Castiel said, already exasperated by those words, particularly when he suspected that he would be hearing them repeatedly for some time. "And becoming an angel is not necessarily an honor. I believe there is a reason you nicknamed us 'dick with wings'. But if anyone _were_ deserving of such an honor, it would be you. You helped to save the world."

"So did Sammy."

"And Sam will get his, too, in time, but right now I'm more focused on you," Castiel murmured, stepping closer. He had his suspicions about Gabriel and Sam, though there was no point in saying as much out loud. Instead, he cupped his hand around the back of Dean's head and gently urged him forward. Dean was as responsive as a ragdoll, crumbling forward until his forehead made contact with Castiel's belly. He stayed there, face pressed to Castiel's shirt, taking in slow, shallow breaths.

Castiel stroked his hair again, noting the way that Dean tensed a little at the light pressure. It was like he couldn't - or didn't really know to - relax. "I want to take care of you, Dean," he said quietly. "If you are willing to let me."

"Why?" Dean sounded honestly confused, like this was a question he had repeatedly asked himself over the past three days.

"Because we're family."

It was the only answer that Castiel could give which might actually make it through Dean's stubborn head, and it seemed to work. Dean looked up at him in surprise, his eyebrows furrowing, the shock apparently waking him up a little more. 

"I won't tell you that you're not going to find it awkward or uncomfortable or embarrassing, because you probably will. But that doesn't change the fact that I believe you need this, and that it will be good for you. If you'll let me, I think that once you let yourself go, you'll enjoy it."

"Not exactly making me want to jump on board here, Cas," Dean muttered sluggishly, but he didn't move away from the slow petting. "What are we talking, exactly?"

"It would be much easier for me to show you," Castiel pointed out, because he was reasonably sure that Dean would never agree to come with him if they had this talk here. This motel room was basically the Winchester life in a nutshell, and it would be far too easy for Dean to get caught up in thoughts of what was Normal and Acceptable, as humans so often did. Away from prying eyes, safe in a place that Castiel had created solely for them, he suspected Dean would be more open.

Dean shook his head slowly, like he was going to say no, but then he sighed. "Yeah, fine."

"Really?"

"I said yeah, didn't I?" Dean said grumpily, not quite snapping but on the verge of it. Because he was so clearly overtired and in a fragile state of mind, Castiel didn't reprimand him.

Instead, he stood back and watched as Dean stumbled around the room gathering his things together. He would have helped, but he had learned a long time ago that Dean and Sam were both very protective of their personal items and neither took well to having them touched, even by someone they considered family. It shouldn't have taken long, but Dean was so out of it he kept losing focus. He would pick something up and then just stand there and stare like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it until Castiel shifted or cleared his throat, and only then would he remember and the item go into his bag.

Finally, though, he was ready. He turned to Castiel, bag slung over one shoulder, and said, "Don't forget the Impala."

"I won't."

Even though Dean was clearly expecting the two fingers to his forehead, Castiel deliberately stepped into his personal space. Dean frowned, his mouth opening to protest the proximity, and Castiel cut him off by gathering Dean into his arms and wings. This squirming human felt so incredibly delicate in Castiel's grip, as though anything would be enough to break him irreparably. He tightened his grip until Dean went still and then, pleased, spread his wings and flew them both to their destination.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean’s legs buckled when the floor abruptly formed beneath him, but there was no danger of him actually falling. Not when Castiel’s grip was so tight that he could barely breathe. For a few seconds - just because he didn’t want to cause a fight right away, he told himself - he let himself rest against the angel, momentarily paralyzed with that little tiny flash of awe he’d never been able to get rid of. Angels were dicks, that much was true, but time and again their strength had proven to be something else. Castiel was supporting him, a 200lb man, effortlessly.

Eventually he straightened, squirming free this time, and turned to look at the room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Another motel, maybe, or even a hotel if Castiel was feeling classy. But instead they were standing in the middle of a living room. The walls were painted a pale red and the furniture was all in deep shades of grey, warm and comfortable. A fireplace was against the wall directly in front of Dean with a real fire already burning away, and right above it was a 60 inch LED television. 

To his right was a kitchen, one that actually looked like it could be cooked in. It wasn’t big, but Dean knew from personal experience that sometimes the smallest and shittiest kitchens could still produce awesome stuff. He took a cautious step forward, realizing that there was a hall leading out of the kitchen. He couldn’t see where it led to, but he could see out the windows, and the view was amazing. The house - cabin? - was surrounded by forest. Just barely visible through all the trees was a lake.

“Cas... where the hell are we?” Dean whispered.

“Home.”

That one word was enough to make Dean shiver, though he did his best to cover up the girly reaction. “Dude, did you... is this...”

Castiel smiled. “It is all legal, if that’s what you want to ask,” he said, looking slightly amused. “No one will bother us. We are miles away from the nearest human city, and even the closest dwelling is a twenty minute walk in any direction. This is our home for the foreseeable future, until you decide that you are ready to leave. The only other person who even knows that it’s here is Gabriel.”

“Don’t tell me this is one of those places where Gabriel comes to hook up,” Dean said, swallowing hard when he spotted the bright green blanket tossed across the back of the couch. It looked obscenely soft, and after over two decades of sleeping on shitty motel-grade sheets, it was all he could do to keep himself from walking over and touching it.

“We are the first occupants of this nest, Dean. I built it for us.”

Dean froze and slowly turned to look at him. “What?”

“You are my nestling,” Castiel said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “It is my duty to provide for you, and that includes shelter. I wanted to give you a home. I know you love the Impala, but this is a place where you can be free. You don’t have to worry or pretend here. As I said, it is completely private and no one will bother us unless offered an invitation that will give us plenty of time to prepare.”

“You...” Dean’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t just from the exhaustion or alcohol - especially since he suspected Castiel might’ve used his mojo to sober him up. The only home he had ever known burned when he was four years old. Since then, the Impala was the closest thing that he and his brother had. And as much as he loved his baby, it was hard to call the car home. For one thing, after he reached the age of fifteen it stopped being even remotely comfortable to crash in.

Once more he looked around the room, taking in the smaller details he had not noticed until now. Like the bookcase on the far side of the room which was loaded with books, most of which he didn’t recognize - but a few of them he did, because they looked suspiciously like the few books he’d had the time to read over the years. Or the collection of movies right next to it, many of the titles his favorites. Or the picture on the wall of a blonde woman with a baby in one arm and a little three-year-old standing right beside her.

His throat felt tight. He moved closer to the picture. He’d never seen this one before, yet it was unquestionably Mary Winchester. “Where did you...?”

“You know that I am capable of traveling through time. I removed it from your house a few days before the fire, knowing that it would not be missed,” Castiel admitted. 

“Cas, this is... This is...” Dean trailed off and let out a shaky laugh, not sure he was capable of finishing that sentence. “This is too much, man.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you say that, Dean?” Castiel was close, suddenly, _too_ close. It made Dean’s heart race. “I want to take care of you and give you the best home and childhood I am capable of. Your mother is an important part of you and I wanted to honor that. I am not trying to diminish her place in your life.”

It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Castiel had not included his father in that, but Dean was way too tired to bring up John Winchester right then. He’d spent the past three or four - he wasn’t even sure anymore - days in a complete turmoil, drinking himself stupid because he couldn’t get Castiel’s offer out of his head. No matter how many times he told himself that he didn’t want this, he couldn’t squash the part of him that was so frigging tempted to accept. 

He dropped his gaze, unable to think of a reply when facing the intensity of Castiel’s blue eyes, but found that staring at the floor didn’t really help. If anything, the sight of the wood only made him feel even more out of his depth. “I... I don’t know what you want from me.”

His name was a sigh, Castiel twitching like he wanted to gather Dean up in his arms again. “You told me you know what it means to be a nestling.”

“I do.”

“Then you know that it will require trust on your part. Do you trust me that much?”

“Yes.” It was out before Dean had even really processed the question, and that surprised him. Of course he trusted Castiel - pretty hard not to after the guy had gone and gotten himself blown up twice trying to stop the Apocalypse - but he hadn’t understood how much until right now.

Castiel’s eyes were still boring into him. “I will ask you again. Do you want to be my nestling, Dean Winchester?”

Dean licked his lips. He hadn’t given an answer before, but he had a feeling Castiel would not let him leave without one now. He had to decide. On the one hand, he felt like saying no. Just walking out and taking the Impala back to his old life. It was the safest route. Seeing nestlings out and around had always made him prickly and uncomfortable, and John's reaction hadn't helped. The act of feeding an adult human grace regressed them to a childlike and vulnerable state whether the human wanted it or not; though there would be periods during which he would be his normal self, in many ways it would be like growing up again.

Not to mention, Castiel had already said that there were parts of this that Dean wouldn’t like. Had specifically said words like _awkward_ and _uncomfortable_ , and coming from Castiel of all people, the dude who had such piss poor people skills that he’d once made a hooker cry, that was practically a screaming red flag right there. 

But on the other hand, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Sam had Stanford, Bobby had Jody and the hunting community, and Dean had... nothing. He was just an aimless hunter floating around the country, and would continue to do so until something finally got the drop on him. At least by becoming an angel, he would be a better hunter. It really had nothing to do with the knot of longing that tightened in his chest every time Castiel said that he wanted to take care of him.

He cleared his throat. “If we, uh, do this... there’s no turning back, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he mumbled. “You wouldn’t have an escape, Cas.”

“I wish I could smite every person who ever made you feel as though you are unworthy. Dean.” A strong hand seized his chin, pulling his head up until he had to meet Castiel’s gaze. “I _know_ you. I raised you from hell. I have seen everything that you are, right down to the most insignificant atoms that make up your body. I will not change my mind. There is nothing you could do or say that will sway me from this. I want to take care of you.”

“Okay.”

Castiel paused, and then he said carefully, “You’re certain?”

“Yeah,” Dean practically whispered. His heart was still pounding but now that his agreement was out there, he actually felt a little calmer. “So long as... I mean, I might have to be a hunter sometimes.”

“We will deal with that when the situation arises,” said Castiel. His firm grip on Dean’s chin turned into something far more gentle, and the knot in Dean’s chest twisted when Castiel’s fingers trailed up his cheek and swept through his hair. Unconsciously, he leaned into it just a little.

“What happens next?” he asked, trying to keep a cocky tone.

“You eat.”

“Food?”

“It’s been too long since you last ate,” Castiel said, dropping his hand from Dean’s hair. He didn’t go far, though, pressing his palm to Dean’s lower back. “You’re going to eat a sandwich and then take a shower, and then go to bed.”

Dean bit back the automatic protest that it was still light outside and trailed the angel into the kitchen. There was a little dining table set up, just big enough to fit four people so long as none of them were Sam, and Dean sat down. The second he was no longer standing, it hit him just how exhausted he really was. Suddenly the thought of eating and then taking a shower before he was able to hit the sack was overwhelming, and the table was looking like a very comfortable place to put his head down.

“Better hurry up with that food,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

He didn’t get an answer, but less than five minutes later Castiel set a plate down in front of him. Dean stared at the meal and felt the weirdest urge to start laughing. Peanut butter and apple jelly on toast. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had it, mostly because Sam’s favorite had always been peanut butter and bananas and they’d never had the money for both.

“Eat, Dean.”

Automatically, he obeyed. The toast was warm and soft and went down easily, particularly when Castiel gave him a glass of milk. He wasn’t sure where the angel was getting this food from, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue. And when he was finished, Castiel urged him up and sent him to the bathroom. It was huge, containing a shower big enough for two people and a tub that could’ve accommodated at least three, but Dean was too tired to really appreciate it. He took a quick shower, swaying again by the time he was done.

The bathroom door opened just as he was climbing out, and he yelped as he grabbed for a towel. “Dude! You don’t just walk into the bathroom!”

“My apologies,” Castiel said, but he didn’t leave. He walked over to Dean instead, carrying a fresh set of clothing. “I will help you get dressed.”

“I don’t need help, Cas.”

For a split second, something unfamiliar flickered in Castiel’s eyes, but he said only, “Tomorrow we will talk. For tonight, you will let me help you.”

There was a band of steel in that voice that Dean wasn’t sure how to argue with. Dumbly, standing there with a towel around his waist, he watched as a goddamn angel of the Lord went down on his knees and shook out a pair of underwear for him to step into. He was half-tempted to pinch himself to figure out if he’d started dreaming.

“I don’t usually wear tighty whities,” he mumbled, frowning as he stepped into first one hole and then the other. Castiel started to draw them up his legs and Dean batted his hands away at mid-thigh, pulling them up the rest of the way himself. He stiffened as he did, his fingers registering the unfamiliar feel of plastic.

“What the -”

“Tomorrow,” Castiel repeated, holding out a pair of pajama bottoms festooned with cowboys. 

If he hadn’t been so tired, Dean never would’ve agreed to it. As it was he, he was about two seconds from passing out on the floor. He scowled and stepped into the bottoms, then allowed Castiel to help him with the button-up top. But it was like even that simple act of dressing took the remainder of his energy. He had little memory of Castiel leading him out of the bathroom or into his bedroom; he remembered seeing a bed, falling on top of it, and nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean woke up, he wasn't sure where he was at first. There was no rickety old air conditioner fighting to cool the room off. He didn't smell any alcohol. And for once, he was actually undressed and underneath the covers on the bed. The very soft covers, with sheets that made him want to curl up and go right back to sleep. But stranger than all of that was the realization that he actually felt safe enough to do that, even though a groping hand under his pillow revealed that Ruby's knife was missing.

Memory of the night before came back to him and he sighed, blinking as he sat up. The room around him was pretty bare, a stark contrast to the rest of the house from what he remembered. The walls were painted a deep green, and the furniture - two nightstands, a bookshelf, a dresser, and the bed itself - was made from a light wood that might have been oak or maple. But aside from a copy of the picture of Mary from the living room, there were no other decorations on the walls.

He pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up slowly. Even though he'd clearly been sleeping for a while, he was still exhausted. But he was awake enough to want some answers. He made his way over to the door and opened it, pausing to listen for a moment. The house was quiet, with no hint as to where Castiel might be. Dean stepped out of his room, trying to ignore the feeling that he was somehow disobeying by leaving without permission.

The living room and kitchen were both empty, but he didn't have to search far before he found the angel. Castiel was sitting out on the porch. To Dean's shock, he was no longer wearing Jimmy's suit and trenchcoat. Instead, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It was easily the most casual clothing that Dean had ever seen Castiel in, and it was actually a little jarring to see the angel looking so.... human. Especially when Castiel turned his head and offered a warm smile in greeting.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hi," Dean said a little awkwardly, sinking into the other free chair. He caught a glimpse of the pajamas he was wearing and scowled, blushing, when he saw the cowboys. "What the hell, Cas?"

"You look very cute," said Castiel gravely, and Dean sputtered.

"What - that's not - you don't -"

"I think we need to have a talk," Castiel said, not giving him time to speak or protest. "Dean, you are my nestling now. And that means I will be treating you as though you are my child. In all ways."

Dean stared at him for a moment, his level of discomfort rising. "Well yeah. I figured," he said finally. "But uh... there's no need to help me dress or for _this_." He plucked at the pajamas in aggravation. He could just imagine the look on Sam's face if his brother saw him dressed like this. He was pretty sure that Sam would _never_ let him live this down.

"It is my understanding that little kids can't dress themselves without help."

"But I'm not a little kid."

"You are now."

"Cas -"

"You will call me Daddy, Dean."

Dean's jaw dropped and for a few seconds he was actually speechless. It took him way too long to find his voice, but once he did he surged to his feet. "There's no way in hell I'm doing that." 

His movement was fast enough that he caught a tell-tale crinkling from around his thighs, faint but audible. Horrified, he gripped the waistband of his pants and tugged them open. His face flamed with humiliation when he saw that he was wearing pull-up training pants. Exactly like a little 2 or 3-year-old would wear when they were coming out the other side of potty training and couldn't be trusted to not have accidents. There was even a picture of a dinosaur on the crotch.

Words might have failed him, but action didn't. Dean turned, intending to retreat to his bedroom and strip because even being naked was better than this, and found his way barred by a stubborn angel. Castiel's hands gently but firmly gripped his upper arms, preventing him from escaping into the house no matter how much Dean struggled. And god knew Dean tried, even throwing a punch at Castiel's face that the angel gracefully dodged. Though it was probably more to keep Dean from hurting himself than because he was concerned about what would be, for him, a glancing blow.

Castiel turned then, pulling Dean with him, and sat back down in his chair. He forcefully jerked Dean down into his lap and pinned his arms to his sides, wrapping his own arms around Dean to hold him in place. "Dean, you _will_ listen to me."

"Damn it, you son of a bitch, let go!"

"No," came the annoyingly calm response. "I told you, you are my nestling and I am going to take care of you. I know what you need. I am going to give you some rules. If you have a problem with them, we will discuss them calmly. But I will not listen to any little boys who throw tantrums, do you understand me?"

Dean stilled, panting, mortified.

"Good. Now, when you are wearing your pull-ups you will call me Daddy. The only time you won't be wearing them is if you're needed on a hunt, or Sam and Bobby want to visit, and you need to act like an adult as much as you can. And we will be discussing all of that in detail before it happens. You are not to take your pull offs unless I give you permission, and believe me I will know if you do and you will be punished accordingly."

"Cas -"

"Daddy," Castiel corrected him before continuing, "No more drinking, Dean, You'll eat three meals a day and have a snack if you're hungry. Every night you'll be given a bath before you go to bed, and I will tuck you in and read you a story. When you feel better about this, we'll go shopping for whatever you want. I'd like you to be able to pick out decorations for your room and some toys. Maybe even some movies or a video game. I don't want you to be bored during the day."

It sounded like torture. Dean struggled again, frustrated that Castiel's grip was so immovable. "Why are you doing this?" he bit out, pissed. "I don't want this."

"You agreed to give it a chance," Castiel reminded him.

"Yeah, well, that was before I knew you wanted to treat me like a two-year-old!"

"Would it be so bad?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Why?" Dean could hardly believe his ears. "Dude, I'm a grown-ass man. I don't need to wear pull ups or have someone monitor my eating habits or take me shopping or tuck me in at night. And none of those other nestlings I saw did, either."

"Nestlings are all different ages," Castiel murmured. "And how do you know what you don't need these things? You've never had them."

That was actually enough to make Dean stop. "I - that's not true."

"Isn't it? Dean, when you were four years old your childhood ended. I saw your life when I raised you from hell. Your father stopped treating you like the child you were and started acting like you were an adult. At the age of four, you had to change your own brother's diapers."

"Sammy needed me," Dean muttered.

"I know, and you were a wonderful parent. But that wasn't fair to _you_. You should never have had to sacrifice your childhood like that, even if it was for the sake of your little brother. I just want to give you what you never had, and this is the only way I can think of to do so. You said you trusted me, Dean, and I swear to you that I will not do anything to abuse that trust."

Castiel's passionate speech left him silent and floundering for words to say. He could tell this was a losing battle, if only because he'd already discovered that it was nearly impossible to explain a human emotion like embarrassment to an angel. Castiel just didn't get it. Worse yet, the angel was stubborn enough that he wouldn't let this bizarre idea go until Dean could prove to him that it wasn't going to work. Which wouldn't be that hard, because no amount of grace was ever going to be enough to make Dean be okay with this.

He could leave. He hadn't consumed any grace yet, so there was still time. It was only once he had his first taste of grace that he would essentially be trapped here. But the longer he looked into Castiel's familiar blue eyes, the less he wanted to. There was a part of him that still wanted this, so long as Castiel eventually stopped this weird kid thing and let him act the way he wanted to. And if he had to sneak into the bathroom and take the stupid pull ups off and go commando for the foreseeable future, well, that was fine.

"Boundaries," he finally said, his voice an embarrassingly thin crack. "I can't just..."

"I know. We'll learn together. It will be okay." The arms around him tightened, but this time it wasn't with the goal of restricting him. This was an embrace, warming him from the inside out. Dean sat stiffly for only a minute before his body relaxed into it without his permission. It just felt so _good_.

Not long after he begrudgingly relaxed, Castiel began rubbing a hand up and down his spine. It wasn't quite an impromptu massage, but damn it if the angel didn't seem to know every single place where tension had been building. Castiel's fingers located those spots unerringly and pressed in hard, releasing the tension and turning Dean's muscles into flimsy piles of goo. He found himself with his head on the angel's shoulder, basically a boneless puddle.

He could've sat there for a lot longer, not that Dean would've admitted it, had his stomach not started letting out hungry little grumbles. Castiel's hand paused briefly and then he chuckled. "You're hungry, baby."

Dean's face burned and he made a non-committal sound in response, not sure how to otherwise respond to the term of endearment. It was one he'd used plenty himself, both in relation to his car and to women, but he couldn't remember the last time it was applied to him. It was things like this that he knew he would never be comfortable with no matter what Castiel said, and he hoped that it wouldn't be long before the stubborn angel gave up on this bizarre crusade.

"I could eat something," he mumbled.

Castiel shifted beneath him, and then suddenly he stood up. Dean would never admit to the - completely manly - squeak that came out of his mouth. He clutched at the angel desperately, even though he was only a few feet off the ground. The arm around his waist tightened and Castiel lifted him effortlessly, balancing Dean on his hip the way Dean used to carry Sammy when his brother got tired and whiny. It was weird, because he was technically taller than Castiel, and yet Castiel held him like he weighed no more than a baby.

"Let's get you something to eat. Do you want anything in particular?"

Slowly, unable to resist wrapping an arm around Castiel's neck and holding on tightly, Dean shook his head. He couldn't have put into words how strange it felt to be carried inside the house. Castiel didn't put him down until they were in the kitchen, and then he lowered Dean into one of the chairs like he was something fragile or breakable. He was smiling in a way that Dean had never seen before, and it made Dean uncomfortable in a way he was equally unable to describe.

Castiel looked _happy_ , and he had no idea what to do about that.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel had done a lot of reading before he approached Dean, but his research included more than just details about the lifestyle he was trying to introduce to his stubborn nestling. Thanks to the internet, he had stocked the cabin with as many basics as he could find, mostly because he wasn't sure what Dean would want to eat now that artery clogging diner food wasn't on the menu morning, noon and night. He was aware of what Dean's favorites were, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that Dean wouldn't demand some input.

For the time being, though, it seemed wiser to give Dean as little opportunity to fight back as possible. Dean was off balance now, too preoccupied with assessing the situation to really throw the kinds of tantrums Castiel suspected weren't too far off. It was best to keep him that way for as long as possible. So he put together a simple meal of porridge, toast with strawberry jam and a glass of milk. Dean frowned when he saw the porridge, gingerly poking at the mess with his spoon.

"I don't like porridge," he said quietly, looking up at Castiel through his eyelashes.

It took every ounce of stoicism Castiel possessed to not openly melt right then and there. In his pajamas, with his hair still messy and his eyes hazy with sleep, Dean was _way_ too adorable. "How about if we add some honey?" he suggested, already moving to grab the ingredient from the cupboard. He opened the jar and added a generous spoonful to the porridge.

Dean studied the new addition for a long moment before he gave the bowl a slow stir, tasting the contents cautiously. His nose wrinkled but he apparently deemed it acceptable, because he began to eat. Castiel stood back and watched him, surprised by the warm feeling in his chest. Knowing that Dean was here, being fed and cared for, instead of searching for a hunt alone was something that he had often longed for over the past two years. Finally, he was getting the chance to protect Dean Winchester.

Not that he harbored any illusions that this would be easy by any stretch of the imagination. Like any seasoned hunter, even while he ate Dean was busy taking everything in. That was evident in the way that his eyes kept darting around the room. He was no doubt trying to figure out exactly how far Castiel planned to take this, and only then would he decide how he was going to counter it. It was an admirable tactic, even if it wasn't going to work this time. 

The spoon clanked against the bottom of the bowl and Dean yawned, trying to hide it by taking a big bite of toast. Castiel smiled. He'd already planned for a nap to become a part of Dean's daily routine. Both Dean and Sam had been running on way too little sleep for too long. Getting four hours a night - or less, considering how often Dean woke up screaming lately - put unnecessary stress on their bodies, and even though Castiel had healed that damage when he'd resurrected Dean, that would not last forever. 

"Take your milk into the living room," he said, moving forward to pick up the bowl and the half-eaten piece of toast. He didn't try to make Dean finish it; Dean had eaten something and that was good enough for now. "I'll put a movie on for us to watch."

"Okay," Dean said, and he was still frowning but he didn't voice whatever was on his mind. He stood up, took the glass of milk and walked into the living room. A moment later, Castiel heard the television go on.

He took his time cleaning up the kitchen, wanting to give Dean a little time to himself. The first couple of weeks would be the hardest, he knew, but he thought that it might become a little easier after Dean had his first few tastes of grace. Dean would be more vulnerable then, and Castiel was hoping that the process of becoming an angel, something that was _not human_ and thus not governed by the strange human convention of morality and what constituted as socially normal, would help. 

When the kitchen was practically sparkling, he walked into the living room to join his nestling. He'd made sure that the furniture in the room was plush and comfortable, and Dean had curled himself up into a little ball on the couch. He was propped up against the arm, but his head was tipped back and his eyes were half-lidded. Castiel shot a quick glance at the screen, not surprised to see that there was an action movie playing. Lots of shooting combined with sexy girls in practically no clothing.

The remote was sitting on the coffee table and he picked it up, switching the channel to something more age appropriate. 

"Hey," Dean complained.

"You need a break, Dean," Castiel said, not budging in the slightest. There had been more than enough fighting in the past few months; he was positive that he couldn't be the only one who was tired of it. He sat down on the other end of the couch. "Besides, you might like it."

Dean shook his head and muttered something about babies. His scowl only deepened as he watched Aladdin escape the cave with the help of a genie and a magic carpet, but within minutes - by the time that Prince Ali made an entrance into the palace - he was absorbed in the story. He'd clearly never seen the movie before. Unfortunately, by the time that Jafar found the lamp and took over Agrabah, Dean was sound asleep and drooling a little. 

"So stubborn," Castiel murmured fondly, shaking his head. He created a thick, soft blanket, which he carefully spread over his little boy. It was impossible not to notice that Dean's arms were wrapped protectively around his tummy, and he couldn't resist mojoing up a fat bee. A touch of grace insured that the bee would give off heat, and then he gently set the toy in Dean's lap. It only took a few seconds before Dean was latching onto the source of warmth and unconsciously nuzzling his cheek against the bee's yellow and black striped tail. 

Castiel smiled again, almost overwhelmed by the intense wave of affection that swept over him, and had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Dean in some way. Years of having to wake up at the slightest hint of trouble meant that Dean slept very lightly, and he'd already pushed his luck with the blanket and toy. Instead, he dimmed the lights and left Dean to sleep.

He returned to the kitchen and summoned his angel blade. It was best to do this while Dean was sleeping, because it would only upset him to know that Castiel was technically hurting himself to do this. He carefully drew the blade across his forearm, watching as the pure white light that was his grace bubbled up. Because the wound was to his real form he couldn't disassociate from the pain the way he would if it were just to his vessel, but it would heal fairly quickly.

Gabriel had gotten him a couple of bottles to hold the grace until Dean consumed it, and he tipped one now against his arm. The grace trickled in slowly. The sensation was a little odd, but he managed to fill four of the bottles halfway before he stopped, loosely binding the wound when it did not heal immediately. There was another reason for their nest, though he had not confided as much to Dean. Nourishing a nestling usually left an angel weaker, and having a safe, private place with little risk of predators was key.

Heaven and hell were officially at rest for the moment, but there was no telling when a stray demon might pop up. Castiel was confident that he could smite any threat that came close, but it made more sense to be cautious. He twisted the lid onto the bottles and left them on the counter, having already decided that it would be better for Dean to take the grace at night. It would help him to sleep better, keeping the nightmares of hell at bay when he wasn't so exhausted that his mind slept too deeply for dreams.

He had just swept a cloth across his blade to clean it when he heard rustling in the other room, and then Dean stumbled in. Regrettably he wasn't carrying the bee, no doubt having left the toy behind on the couch. "Cas?" he asked sleepily, rubbing a fist into one eye.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, and then added gently, "It's Daddy."

Dean paused briefly, then mumbled, "You shouldn't have let me fall asleep."

"Why not? You were tired and needed the rest."

"'Cause..." Dean trailed off and wrinkled his nose, apparently unable to think of a good excuse. Finally, he said, "'Cause it's weird. I'm not a little kid. I don't need a nap."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "You are a little kid now, remember?"

"Is that why I woke up with that... thing?" Dean folded his arms.

"It's a stuffed animal," Castiel told him. 

"I know what it is!"

"Didn't you like it? I can get you a different one if you prefer. Or we can go to the toy store and you can pick one out yourself." Castiel tipped his head slightly, maintaining an indifferent expression even though he very much wanted to smile at Dean's frustrated look. 

"I don't play with toys," Dean said very slowly, enunciating each word. 

"You weren't playing, you were sleeping, and no matter what you say now, you were holding it very tightly. I could discern a noticeable difference in your sleeping pattern once you had your arms around the toy. And I'm not sure what difference it makes since it's just the two of us," Castiel replied. "I'm not going to mock you, Dean. I don't think less of you for holding a toy while you sleep, or wanting to sit in my lap, or calling me Daddy. Or any of the other things that will happen over the next few months. I am angel, and what you consider to be socially right or wrong means nothing to me."

Dean opened his mouth... and then he closed it. He looked confused. Then he said, displaying that famous Winchester brand of stubbornness, "It doesn't matter. I still don't play with toys. Or sleep with them." 

"Okay. But if you decide that's something you want to do, there's nothing wrong with that," Castiel said. 

"I won't." Dean frowned at him and looked around, eyes lingering briefly on the bottles of grace. But all he said was, "Is this all we're gonna do? Sit around and play house?"

"What else would you like to do?"

"Hunt," came the immediate response, and Castiel barely held back a sigh. Of course, the second Dean began to feel better from a good night of sleep and some food, he wanted to hunt.

"No, Dean."

"You can't just expect me to not hunt," Dean said. "You said -"

"I said that on special occasions if it's necessary," Castiel interrupted. "That doesn't mean scouring the newspapers for the slightest hint of a hunt." He took in the mutinous expression he was receiving and knew that any suggestion that could be taken as childish in any way would only result in a tantrum. "However, if you want to go get dressed, we would go for a walk. It would be good for you to know the surrounding areas a little better since we're going to be here for a while."

Dean mulled this over for a few seconds, no doubt trying to find a complaint, but evidently decided that made sense. "Fine."

"Good. Go get dressed and we'll go," Castiel said, relieved as Dean turned and left. One argument was successfully diverted, but not for long: Dean was heading for the bathroom, and Castiel knew exactly what he was planning to do in there. He got up and silently followed.


	6. Chapter 6

His suspicions were correct. Castiel didn't need to be able to see through clothing to know that. There was a marked difference in the way that Dean moved as he opened the bathroom door and came out still wiping his hands on the bottoms of his pajamas, a confidence that had not been there before, and it didn't take a genius to guess why. His head was down and he clearly wasn't expecting Castiel to be standing right there, as Dean just barely managed to stop before he ran right into him.

"Uh, Cas?" he asked with a puzzled frown, shifting to the left. Castiel moved with him, not allowing him to pass. He had his arms folded across his chest, and he spoke softly but firmly.

"It's Daddy, Dean, and I would like you to show me that you are still wearing your pull-up."

Dean froze, though whether it was from the reminder or the request or both it was hard to say. "Why?"

"I want to make sure that you're still wearing it."

"Well, I am." Dean shifted to the right this time, scowling when again, Castiel moved with him. He made a quick dodge to the left, right, and then the left again before Castiel lost his patience and stepped forward. Dean stepped backwards automatically and Castiel followed him into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it without taking his eyes off of his troublesome nestling.

"I want to see," he said simply.

"Don't you believe me?" Dean demanded.

Castiel met his gaze squarely, refusing to be guilted. Dean was very much a little boy in some ways no matter how much he denied it, using emotional manipulation and pouting to get his way when he was backed into a corner. No doubt it had served him well with the few parental figures he'd had in his life, but not in this case. This was too important. The pull-ups were not only a stepping stone to where he ultimately felt Dean needed to be, they were a physical reminder that would not allow Dean to forget what he now was.

"If you show me," he said, "then I'll step aside. You can get dressed and we can go for our walk. But we are not leaving this bathroom until you do."

"You can't keep me in here!" Dean said, outraged.

"Yes, I can," Castiel said, leaning back against the door in a casual move that Gabriel would have been proud of. He was an angel, but even if he had been mortal he was positive that his attention span could outlast that of a little boy. As a hunter Dean was used to lying in wait for monsters, sometimes spending hours on a stake-out, but this time there would be no adrenaline or plans to keep him occupied.

For several minutes Dean just stood there and scowled at him, at first as though he couldn't believe this was really happening and then, like he thought he could make Castiel move aside through sheer force of will. Castiel just looked back at him, calm and resolute, and finally Dean cracked. He began to look around the room for an escape route, but there was nothing. While the bathroom was spacious, the only window was too small for Dean to be able to fit through.

The only way out was through the door, and Castiel was not going to budge anytime soon. Watching Dean come to this conclusion was both amusing and endearing, though Castiel made sure to keep his expression schooled. Evidently, after he had thoroughly examined the window and judged it too small, Dean decided to outwait him, because he dropped to the floor with his back against the tub and just sat there staring at the floor.

Dean was much more stubborn than Castiel had expected him to be, though in retrospect he felt foolish for not having anticipated this earlier. It was nearly two full hours before Dean spoke. When he did it was to grunt, "I'm thirsty."

With a twitch of his fingers, Castiel created a glass. He filled it with water from the sink and silently held it out to Dean. The scowl he was rewarded with was truly impressive as Dean snatched the glass away, drinking the contents in a couple of deep gulps. Then he slammed it down on the lid of the bathtub and folded his arms across his chest just like Castiel. But whereas Castiel maintained the pose for comfort, at that moment Dean looked like he was minutes away from a bout of frustrated tears.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him reach that point, but Castiel couldn't do it. "Dean," he said gently, knowing that Dean was listening even if the boy refused to look at him. "I'm not as ignorant as you think. I am aware that you find this embarrassing. I know that you are in complete control of your bodily functions." For now, anyway. "But wearing your pull-up is important."

"It's for little kids and I'm not doing it!" Dean snapped, his hands tightening into fists, though he still spoke to the floor. "You can't make me!"

Castiel purposely did not point out how very untrue that statement was. If he so desired, he could put Dean in diapers and use his grace to make them irremovable by anyone but himself. And he could not only force Dean to use them, he was capable of binding Dean's muscles so that he had no more mobility than an infant and had to depend entirely on Castiel. And all of that could be done with absolutely no warning in less time than it would take Dean to blink or draw breath.

But he wouldn't, because forcing Dean into that role would only make him hate it. Eventually, of course, Dean would settle into it given enough time, but it would not offer his torn soul the healing it so desperately needed. Castiel wanted Dean to want this, and in order for that to happen they had to start small. Dean had to become comfortable with the idea of being treated as a little boy before he would be willing to depend on Castiel for so much more.

With that in mind, he kept his voice soft and unthreatening as he said, "It's a reminder, Dean. Physically you're a very strong man, tall and capable, and I love you exactly the way you are."

Dean's head shot up then, and he looked at Castiel with very wide, shocked eyes.

"I wouldn't want to change anything about you. That's why I want you to wear your pull-ups. It's to help you remember that you're my nestling now, and that as your daddy I'm here to take care of you. Without your pull-ups, especially at the beginning, it will be easy for you to forget. I'm just trying to make this easier on you, little one, that's all. It's not about embarrassing you or making you unhappy."

"But..." Dean started, and then he stopped. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze again, refusing to say anymore. 

Uncertain as to whether he should prod Dean into speaking or not, Castiel chose to remain silent. Everything he had said was true, and he didn't think there was anything else he could have said to sway Dean on the matter. He could only hope that Dean was thinking about everything he had said, both now and while they were on the porch. One way or another, Dean would be wearing the pull-ups and eventually diapers, even if he had to accompany the boy to the bathroom and stand there with him every time Dean needed to go.

It was another hour and seventeen minutes before Dean Winchester broke. Without saying a word, he got up from where he'd been huddled and reached behind the toilet. He pulled out the wadded up pull-up and, still silent and his cheeks pink from blushing, handed it to Castiel.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, filled with a rush of pride. He knew this was very hard on Dean, who always worked so hard at holding himself to a very high standard. John Winchester had drilled that certain standard into his children's heads, that of the take-no-prisoners hunter who lived on alcohol, fast food and one night stands, and this, plus the concept of someone actually _wanting_ to care, was very new to him and probably difficult to understand.

Dean ducked his head in a nod.

Dropping the pull-up in the garbage, Castiel knelt and took a fresh one from the package beneath the sink. "Would you like me to help you?" he asked.

This time his answer was a quick head shake. Dean turned his back, and either he believed Castiel was not looking or he didn't care because he dropped his pajama bottoms. Castiel suspected it was the former, but he made no move to turn away as Dean stepped out of the bottoms and into the pull-up. He had rebuilt Dean's body from ashes; there was nothing he didn't already intimately know about this boy. Nudity mattered little when you could see into someone's soul.

Slowly, Dean reached down and grabbed the pull-up, tugging it into place around his hips. He was much faster at stepping into the pajama bottoms and pulling them back up. When he turned around again, Castiel was smiling warmly and practically bursting with pride.

"Thank you," he repeated, this time not stopping himself from stepping forward and taking Dean into his arms. His little boy tensed at first, and it took him a full minute to slowly relax into the embrace. Still, even then he did not lift his arms to hug back. His hands hung stiffly at his sides, but that was okay. In time, Castiel hoped, Dean would feel comfortable enough to initiate hugs.

As they stood there, for the first time he lightly skimmed the surface of Dean's thoughts. Embarrassment and a good deal of anxiety were the strongest emotions, combined with not a little fear and confusion. That was not surprising. But much to Castiel's pleasure, there was also just a hint of contentment and a struggle to trust. He could tell that Dean was warring with himself, his deeply ingrained sense of right and wrong clashing against what Castiel was telling him. 

Currently, he was reminding himself over and over that Castiel was an angel who did not think like a human and would not judge him. That Sam and John weren't there, and would never know, and so he need not remove himself from the arms of someone who cared for (the word loved was very carefully not thought) him.

That was just the surface. Castiel had no doubt that the war went far deeper. He squeezed Dean tighter, wishing that he could remove the conflict, but he couldn't. Just like removing the memories of hell would ultimately be worse for Dean in the long run, this was something that Dean needed to work through and come to terms with. Removing it and making him compliant would not heal him; a soul could not heal if it was unaware that the wounds were even there.

He let the embrace last until he sensed that Dean was getting restless, and only then did he let go. There would be a need for several more discussions over the next few days, and if Dean removed his pull-up again he would not like the consequences, but Castiel felt they had come far enough in one day. "It's too late for a walk now. Do you want to help me cook supper?"

Dean looked a little suspicious. "What were you planning to cook?"

"I thought we could start with baking chocolate chip cookies for dessert," Castiel replied, gratified when Dean's face lit up. He stepped aside now and Dean hurtled past him, leaving the angel to chuckle softly and hurry after him.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean didn’t like wearing the pull-ups. He'd almost forgotten how annoying they could be. He hadn’t worn them since just after he turned five, when John roughly sat him down and told him that big boys didn’t wet themselves and that Dean needed to start being a big boy because he had to look after Sammy. Now, years later, Dean was old enough to realize that it was partly a question of money. Even back then, pull-ups and diapers weren’t cheap and it wasn’t like Sammy could have been expected to stop using diapers anytime soon. 

After that John stopped buying pull-ups until Sammy had need of them, though it hadn’t really changed anything. Much as it shamed him to think about it, Dean had a few memories of spending the night naked and wrapped in towels because he kept having nightmares about the fire and wetting himself. Sleeping in towels was easier than making his father mad. When he inevitably woke up in the middle of the night, he could push the pee soaked towels under the bed (if they were leaving) or out the window or anywhere else John wouldn’t find them.

He hadn’t thought about that time in years, but he could still remember it vividly: the terror of the nightmares fading away into hot, prickling shame and the fear that his dad would find out he wasn’t being a big boy. Once or twice, he’d even blamed an incident on Sammy when he couldn’t come up with any other explanation. John never found out, and by the time Dean was seven or eight he was old enough that it stopped. Mostly because by then Sammy was old enough to want to crawl into his bed at night. 

Somehow, he didn’t think that Castiel would have reacted the same way. He kept an eye on the angel the whole time they were baking, unable to really enjoy the chocolate chip cookies because his mind was so busy spinning. If the scene in the bathroom had played out in any other way, they would probably still be in there, Castiel's stubbornness be damned. But he kept hearing the words Castiel had said and seeing the complete sincerity in Castiel’s blue eyes. If he was lying, he’d done a damn good job of faking it.

But it just didn’t make any _sense_. Regardless of whether Castiel had money to waste, pull-ups were expensive. There was no need for Dean to wear them when underwear would work just as well. Screw the whole ‘needing a physical reminder’ aspect. What Dean needed was a boost from grace so that he could actually get out there and gank some monsters. The last time he’d taken a break this long from hunting, it was because he’d been trapped in hell.

His stomach churned unpleasantly at just the word, and he jumped when the sound of the television suddenly stopped. His head snapped up and he realized that Castiel had come into the room without his notice, and that Castiel was looking at him as he set the remote down on the coffee table. “Time for bed, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean said, not even bothering to protest that it was only nine and that he hadn’t had a bedtime since he was four years old. It was like the standoff in the bathroom had drained him of all his energy, and he was so tired it was hard to stay awake long enough to piss, wash his hands and brush his teeth. When he was finished, he shuffled into his bedroom and threw himself down on the bed. He tensed when the covers were pulled up around his shoulders. God, now he was being tucked in?

"Would you like me to read you a story?"

Dean rolled his eyes into his pillow. Maybe at this point he shouldn't have been surprised at how far Castiel was determined to take this kid thing. "No, I'm fine."

"Okay. Good night, Dean."

"Night," Dean mumbled, turning his head just enough to watch as Castiel shut the light off and left, leaving the door open just a crack. He wondered what the angel planned to do while Dean was sleeping. It had to be boring staying in the house all night. Maybe he would leave? There had to some things in heaven that still required his attention, after all. 

Not that Dean cared. He rolled over and curled up, trying to ignore how weird the pull-up felt when he moved. Part of him was tempted to take it off again, but he had the feeling that Castiel would somehow know. And while he certainly wasn't afraid of the angel, there was a tiny part of him that wasn't sure he wanted to risk it. Risk what, exactly, he didn't know, but that tiny part was pretty strong. He was in the middle of trying to decide whether he should or not when he finally drifted off to sleep.

It had been a little while since he'd dreamt about Alastair, mostly because he'd been depending on a combination of not sleeping for as long as possible and then, when he couldn't stay awake any longer, using alcohol to keep the nightmares at bay. He had no such protection right now, and Alastair was _there_ : Dean was tied to the rack again, choking on smoke and brimstone, and he was being sliced apart, flesh and organs dangled in front of his eyes, and Alastair just laughed when he cried and made him whole again so that they could start over. 

This time, he transformed himself into Sam and started in with a fish hook, and when that hook plunged into his left eye Dean woke up and couldn't breathe. Or at least he thought he was awake, couldn't even be sure about that, because that was the thing about hell. Sometimes Alastair found it funny to give him false hope. 

The blankets on the bed were tangled around him and he thrashed free, falling off the bed and hitting the floor with a jarring thud. The impact was enough to make him throw up and then couldn't stop, his chest still so tight with panic that he couldn't get enough air. With the terror ringing in his ears, he didn't even realize he wasn't alone in the room until hands reached down and grabbed his shoulders.

"No, please, don't. Please," Dean begged, wrenching away, still breathing in the fires of hell. He sobbed once and covered his face. "Please, no more, I can't, I'll -"

The hands didn't stop. They scooped him right up off the floor and carried him away. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, shaking all over, and waited for the pain to start again. Waited for the images of Sam and John and Bobby to carve into him, mutilate him in every way possible, and then when he was on the verge of breaking, make him whole again. Waited for the blade to be offered to him, blood clinging to it like the sweet promise of freedom if only he'd take it in hand.

But it didn't. 

Slowly, he became aware of the sound of crickets. The smell of fresh air and the wind right off the river. The feel of warmth and fabric, and of a beating heart. Shivering, he dared to take a peek. Right in front of him was a scene that a lot of people would've paid thousands of dollars to see: a big, round moon rising over the river, while a couple of deer - what looked like a doe and her baby - drank from the water on the banks. It was quiet and calm and the opposite of what he saw when he blinked.

He stared for a moment in bewilderment and then, sensing movement, turned his head. Much to his surprise, Gabriel was sitting in the chair beside him. There was an unusually grave look on the archangel's face, but, when he saw Dean watching him, he smiled. "Hey, kiddo."

"Gabriel?" Dean said, or tried to. His throat ached something awful. He remembered gagging for air and throwing up then, and looked down at his pajamas. They were clean, but the sour taste lingered in his mouth.

"Dean," Castiel said above him. Dean flinched and looked up, for the first time realizing who was holding him - holding him like a _baby_ , because Castiel had one arm around his back and the other tucked under his knees. His hands were clasped and he was pressing Dean against his chest in a grip so tight that it would have hurt had it not been so comforting.

"I," Dean started, and then stopped. He never talked about his nightmares. Ever. Sam didn't even know that he was still having them. He rarely woke up screaming because that had been drilled into them a long time ago; he always tried to be quiet, and that meant he could get out of the room before he had a panic attack. Most of the time, once he was out of the room, he'd collapse somewhere quiet and try to breathe through it. If he was lucky, he'd make it to the Impala and the case of beer he always kept in the trunk.

He didn't think that Castiel had stocked the house with any alcohol.

"How about some water?" Gabriel suggested, shooting a look that Dean couldn't interpret at Castiel. 

"I think that would be wise," Castiel said quietly, biting his lower lip. "You know where the kitchen is."

Gabriel nodded and got up, walking back into the house. Dean watched him go, and it was like Gabriel's exit made the situation seem much less surreal. He made an attempt at sitting up, embarrassed at both the way he was being held and at having been seen in the aftermath of a nightmare. It was a weakness he strove to keep to himself and, until now, he'd been successful. 

Castiel only tightened his grip, though. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"About what?" Dean mumbled, the struggle tiring him far more quickly than he was comfortable with. Castiel was way stronger than he had any right to be. He looked up at the angel, uncomfortable with how vulnerable he felt. It felt like Castiel could see everything.

"I wanted you to get more comfortable with the situation before I gave you any grace. I wasn't thinking about your nightmares. I'm sorry. I should have remembered."

"It's fine," Dean said, his embarrassment growing. His nightmares were his own problem. He tried to squirm free again. "You can let go."

"No," Castiel said.

Dean frowned, but before he had the chance to argue Gabriel came back out on the porch. He was holding a cup, only it didn't look like the kind of cup Dean was used to. It had a top screwed on that made it look like a sippy cup. But Gabriel was acting like that was perfectly normal as he extended the cup for Dean to take and said, "Here you go."

"I'm not -"

"It's got grace in it," Gabriel cut him off. "Grace that would be dangerous if you got it anywhere except for your mouth, Dean-o. Believe me, you don't want to know what raw grace could do to human flesh. It's for your own benefit."

After the pull-ups incident, Dean wasn't so sure about that. But when he reached out to take the cup, he saw his hand was shaking badly enough that he probably would have sloshed the contents of a regular cup everywhere. It was humiliating. At least Castiel allowed him to sit up to drink, though he wrapped a proprietary arm around Dean's waist to keep him on his knee. 

He brought the cup to his face and sniffed at the spout. Not much of a smell. Hesitantly, aware that he was crossing a line there was no turning back from, he brought it to his mouth and tipped the cup back. Even with gravity he had to suck hard to get the liquid to come to him, but he allowed only a mouthful before he pulled the cup away to assess. It was cold, shockingly so, helping to clear the remnants of hell's fire from the back of his head. It had no particular taste that he could identify. It seemed to be plain, if cold, water.

When nothing happened except Castiel and Gabriel continued to stare at him, he drank the rest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a month since I updated this story, a month which included the holidays _and_ the new year, not to mention I have not been in a very good place emotionally and mentally. Though I know most of you mean well, comments asking whether I've 'abandoned this story' or about whether or not I'll 'ever update again' are not encouraging. In fact, it is the exact opposite. I do not abandon stories; if they go on hiatus you will be notified. Otherwise please be patient and remember that as a writer of fanfiction, I do my best at something that is time consuming and freely offered. 
> 
> Also, remember that if you want updates or notifications you can visit my [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).

It took a long time for Dean to settle down again, not that Castiel was surprised. At this point, it was amazing that Dean was still willing to sleep at all and didn't just try to just fight it until he'd done himself harm.

He continued to cuddle Dean while his little boy slowly sipped at his drink. At the same time, he resumed his chat with Gabriel, knowing that Dean would be more comfortable if he believed that there was less attention on him. The idle talk about heaven and how the other angels were doing was no longer as interesting as it had been before the sound of Dean falling out of bed and throwing up had broken into their conversation.

Castiel never wanted to see that expression on Dean's face again. He'd known that Dean's nightmares were terrible and bordered on torture, but actually seeing it playing out right in front of him was horrible. He held Dean a little tighter and carded his fingers through Dean's hair, barely listening to Gabriel's detailed story about Hannah and Inias, too focused on trying to soothe him.

The moon was starting to fall and Gabriel had moved on to a boring rant about Raphael by the time Castiel felt Dean's head come to rest on his shoulder as his body finally, if somewhat unwillingly, relaxed into an exhausted sleep.

"Finally. I thought he'd never go to sleep," Gabriel said, breaking off mid-sentence. "You weren't kidding about his nightmares, were you?"

"No," Castiel said quietly, not daring to stop the gentle movement of his fingers across Dean's head. He was worried that if he did, Dean would wake up again. And Dean already looked heartbreakingly vulnerable, his cheeks still stained with tears that he probably wasn't even aware he had cried. His soul was crying for comfort.

"I can't believe you didn't give him grace, Cassie. Wasn't that the whole point?" Gabriel sounded genuinely disappointed in him. It stung.

"I told you, I was hoping to give him more time to get used to this. Dean's having a hard time adjusting. I didn't want him to feel as though consuming the grace had forced him into it," Castiel replied, working hard to keep any trace of irritation from his tone. While grace would not give Dean the mentality of a child or any such nonsense like that, it would amplify and push all of his human emotions much closer to the surface. All of those things that Dean was an expert at repressing would suddenly become overwhelming, and he would no longer be able to push them away like he did now. Add in the fact that he wouldn't have alcohol or sex to use as coping mechanisms and it could spell disaster.

Becoming an angel did not strip away human emotion because the creation of grace did not completely eradicate a human soul, but it did transform the soul into something new. That was partly why nestlings acted like children during the process; it was the soul's struggle to accept, understand and adapt. Dean would be no different, but the things that he would have to face would be so much _more_. Castiel was anticipating a lot of tears, frustration and anger in the near future as Dean consumed more grace and changed.

"Dean-o's smarter than that," Gabriel said, though he seemed a little doubtful. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking at the two of them with a cocked head. "You'll just have to explain it to him so he understands."

"You make it sound so easy."

"You've got Dean Winchester sitting on your knee in a pull-up and he just drank from a sippy cup without arguing about it. And all of that without a lick of grace to smooth the way. At this rate, you're going to have him in diapers and drinking from a bottle before the month is out. I'd say you'll be fine."

Castiel frowned at his brother and cupped Dean a bit more protectively, pleased when Dean unconsciously burrowed into his warmth a little more. The sippy cup was hanging from his hands, ready to fall, and Castiel took it and set it down safely on the floor. He didn't want to risk Dean waking up when it fell. "If his soul is to heal, he needs to accept this."

"He drank the grace willingly. I didn't force it down his throat."

"Then..." Castiel paused, his brows furrowing. "You did give it to him?" He eased his grip on Dean's waist, wondering why Dean hadn't complained about a burning sensation when he drank. Raw angelic grace was caustic to humans, and nestlings were often burned during the initial consumption until their bodies grew used to it. But when he touched Dean's throat with a gentle finger, he found no problems beyond basic irritation from the vomiting and crying. His confusion deepened when Gabriel chuckled.

"You really don't know? You can't even guess?" he asked, the gold in his eyes deepening with his amusement. "It's your bond, little bro. Dean isn't like your average human. You raised him from perdition. You cradled his soul in your grace while you reconstructed his body from ashes. That sort of thing has a lasting effect."

Uncertain of how he was supposed to respond to that, Castiel just stared at his brother. He hadn't even considered what their bond might mean when he asked Dean to become his nestling. He looked down at the boy in his arms, suddenly fearful. There were stories, rare though they might be, of humans that were incapable of forming grace. Their souls were incompatible and the process of trying to become an angel would eventually kill them. The idea of that happening to Dean because of something Castiel had insisted on was horrifying. 

"Do you think... it won't hurt him, will it?" he whispered.

Gabriel shook his head, reaching out to clasp a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Relax. If anything, I think it will make the process easier on him. Might even speed it up. His soul still recognizes you. It _wants_ to accept your grace. He won't fight you the way someone else might."

Castiel leaned into the touch without really thinking about it, still looking down at Dean as he processed Gabriel's words. Honestly, anything that would make this easier on Dean was welcome. The Winchesters always had it so hard. It was about time that something went their way. He sighed. "If it speeds up the process, that means Dean may become even more volatile than I expected."

Gabriel's smirk was truly wicked. "Better you than me. I don't mind baby-sitting every once in a while, but I don't change diapers, handle temper tantrums or do 3am wake-up calls."

"You don't even sleep," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. Yet he was grateful to Gabriel for taking it as fact that he would get that far with Dean. He hadn't really talked about this endeavor with anyone else, mostly because he wasn't sure the other angels would approve of who he'd chosen for his nestling. It was comforting to know that he could call on Gabriel if he had to.

"You're right, I don't. But if the kids upstairs don't start settling down, I might have to start. I have a permanent stress headache, and I don't even get headaches."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Cassie." Gabriel stood up, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension. He flexed his wings, tugging out a stray feather and flicking it carelessly away. "Just makes me remember the reason I left heaven in the first place. Take good care of your nestling, yeah? Let me know if there's any problems."

"Gabriel -" Castiel cut himself off and scowled at the empty place where the archangel had been only a second ago. At one point he might've tried to go after him, but he couldn't leave Dean alone and Gabriel damn well knew it. For the time being, he had no choice but to let the matter go - but he would _definitely_ be asking questions later, because the last thing he wanted was for Gabriel to pull another disappearing act. Gabriel was far too good at hiding for that.

He stood up carefully, cradling Dean in his arms, and carried his little boy inside. He didn't bother putting Dean back to bed, instead choosing to put him down on the couch where he would be close. Dean didn't wake up, but he whined a little when Castiel pulled away from him and latched onto his bee as soon as Castiel offered it to him. Castiel had to smile, gently smoothing his hair across Dean's hair. At the same time, he stroked Dean's soul with his grace. It pained him to see how Dean arched into the touch, like he was desperate for affection.

The sound of a ringing phone shattered the moment and Castiel frowned, instantly creating a sphere of silence around Dean so that he wouldn't wake up. Dean's soul clung to him when he stepped away, and he continued to soothe him with his grace as he sought out the annoying sound. It didn't take him long to find that the source was Dean's phone. Because, and only because, the name on the screen was familiar, he answered.

"Hello, Sam."

"Cas!" There was an awful lot of relief and worry poured into that one word. Sam took a deep breath, the hitch audible, and then he burst out, "Oh my god, dude, _finally_ , I was starting to think that I was gonna have to leave school and hunt Dean down just to make sure that he was okay, I mean, I know that Bobby said he'd been talking to him and he was fine, but he hasn't answered my calls since a couple days after I left and -"

"Sam, breathe," Castiel interrupted. "What do you mean, Dean hasn't been answering your calls?"

"Just what I said. I haven't heard from him in forever." Sam was sounding increasingly mad. "He must have memorized my schedule, because every few days while I was in class I'd get this stupid message saying he was still alive. Then he wouldn't answer me when I called back. I didn't even know he was with you until Bobby called me this morning and told me what was going on."

Before this conversation, Castiel wouldn't have thought there was anything that could have made him more concerned about Dean. This did it. He turned around to look at the little ball on the couch, wanting to make sure Dean was still there, and said, "Bobby was right. He is here with me."

"Where exactly is _here_?" Sam asked.

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because Dean is not doing very good right now. You left for Stanford because you needed a break from hunting. This is Dean's way of taking a break," Castiel said frankly, figuring that there was no point in hiding the truth of the matter. Sam was at least as stubborn as Dean, if not more so. If he thought that Castiel was hiding something from him, particularly something that related to Dean's health, he wasn't above trying to track them down. The last thing Dean needed was to see his brother right now and be reminded of his old life.

"... You mean you actually got him to agree to a break from hunting?" Sam said, stunned.

"Yes."

"Jesus, Cas, what did you do? Tie him down until he agreed to this whole nestling idea?"

Castiel smirked. "Not exactly," he said, watching fondly as Dean squirmed into a more comfortable position. Again, he touched Dean with his grace and calmed him back into a deeper sleep. "I offered him a different perspective, if you will. One that he's still becoming accustomed to. And that's why I can't tell you where we are, Sam. Dean needs time. I'm worried that seeing you again might trigger his impulse to continue hunting."

"Yeah." Sam was quiet, for a moment, and then he practically whispered, "Was it bad?"

"It was," he confirmed, inwardly grimacing at the memory of Dean in that hotel room. He had never seen a more broken shell of a human.

"God. I should've stayed with him. I -"

"Enough, Sam," Castiel ordered, pleased when Sam actually obeyed. This was a delicate subject at best. Even he, who knew Dean Winchester better than anyone, struggled with identifying the bare bones of the Winchester brothers. He cleared his throat. "You wanted to go to Stanford. There's nothing wrong with that."

Sam's silence spoke volumes about whether or not he considered that to be true, but in the end he just changed the subject. "Can you just... ask Dean to call me?"

"I will. I can't promise that he'll do it, but I will relay your message."

"Thanks, Cas. And - and thanks for, you know," Sam cleared his throat, "helping him."

"Don't thank me," Castiel said softly, worried about the youngest Winchester. From the sound of his voice, it didn't seem like Sam was doing all that well either. "And don't worry about Dean. I'll take care of him. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will. Thanks," Sam repeated, and then he hung up.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time he woke up it was dark outside again, but Dean still felt like he hadn't slept much at all. He stayed where he was for a few minutes, blinking heavily, listening to the faint sound of music playing somewhere in the house. His growling stomach was demanding that he get up and eat something, but all he really wanted to do was go back to sleep. Finally he gave in, pushing himself up and sleepily rubbing his eyes. The blanket that had been covering him slipped down as he moved and he shivered as his sleep-warm skin met the cooler air of the room.

He remembered exactly what had happened earlier, though there was a part of him that wished he could forget. Mortification prickled across his skin when he thought about drinking from that stupid cup or being rocked to sleep in Castiel's arms. The only saving grace was that only Castiel and Gabriel had been there to witness his shame. He wasn't sure that he would ever have been able to live it down if anyone else saw him like that. He was going to have to be a lot more careful about how far he allowed Castiel to push things.

Carefully, Dean swung his legs down and stood up. The room spun around him and he sank back down, putting his head in his hands and breathing deeply. This always happened after the really bad nightmares; it was did his best to hide it from his brother, because Sam would only get worried if he knew that Dean was having problems - and that would go triple if Sam knew that the problems were coming from nightmares about hell. Dean had no desire to be tricked into another girly conversation about feelings, thank you very much.

A little slower this time, he tried to stand up again and was pleased when his head didn't swim too badly. Using the wall as support, Dean slowly made his way towards the kitchen where the music was coming from. He was shocked to find Castiel standing at the counter. The angel was humming softly to the song playing on the radio (and was he seriously listening to _country_ , of all things?) and mixing something in a pot. But as soon as Dean's feet hit the tile floor, Castiel turned around to look at him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey," Dean muttered, making his way over to the table and gratefully sitting down. He could feel the beginnings of a bad headache forming, though it was hard to say whether it was from his body demanding sleep, hunger, or the remnants of his panic attack. He rubbed at his temples, distantly noticing that he also needed to shave. His scruff was getting pretty bad.

"I made you some soup," said Castiel, and a moment later he placed a steaming bowl in front of Dean. "It's not your favorite, but it was the best I could come up with without leaving the house," he added apologetically.

Dean looked down at the chicken noodle soup. "It's fine. Thanks." He reached for the spoon, frowning when it trembled a little in the grip of his fingers. It took a lot more concentration than it should have to be able to get the spoon to his mouth without spilling it all over the place, but when he got that first mouthful none of that mattered. The soup, straight from a can though it was, tasted great.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm fine."

"Dean."

"I'm fine," Dean repeated, not lifting his gaze. He could feel the weight of Castiel's eyes on the top of his head regardless, but pretended that eating the soup was taking all of his focus. He didn't want to talk about his nightmares. Talking wasn't going to do anything but make him relive it all over again, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

"No, you're not." Castiel sat down across from him but, surprisingly, said no more. He seemed to be content to just sit there and watch Dean eat. The scrutiny was a little unnerving, but it was better than talking. 

When he was finished, Dean shook his head at an offer for more. Normally a single bowl of soup wouldn't have filled him, but his stomach still had that weird, shivery feeling that suggested anything else he ate was going to make a rapid reappearance. He rubbed his belly idly to calm it and said, "I think I want to take a shower."

"I'll come watch if you want to take a bath."

There was a little hesitation in the way that Castiel said that, like he was anticipating a fight. Fair enough: Dean hadn't hesitated to throw a fit about practically everything else that had happened so far. So he felt almost smug about the way he shrugged and said, "Whatever."

Surprise flitted across Castiel's face and Dean fought back a smirk as he turned and walked towards the bathroom. He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking a bath instead of a shower, but it wasn't worth the argument. And as far as bathing in front of the angel went, well. Growing up in such close quarters with Sam and his father meant that his sense of modesty was pretty much non-existent. 

Plus there was the whole having rebuilt his body from the ashes up thing - Castiel had probably been the first one to see him naked after he was saved from hell. And, well, after the first ten times Castiel had appeared in the room while he was taking a shower, throwing a fit about personal space stopped losing its appeal. At least this time he would know the angel was there ahead of time.

He stripped off the pajamas he was still wearing, bundling them up and throwing them in the corner even though they were technically clean. But even if Castiel had removed the traces of vomit and sweat, to him they still stank and he wanted to wash them before he'd wear them again. The pull-up followed, tossed in the trash, and then he pissed and washed his hands, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist before he started up the tub.

Sometime in between him turning the water on and turning around, Castiel appeared in the room. Dean jumped and then silently swore at himself. If Castiel heard the silent recriminations, he said nothing. He just stepped closer to the tub and leaned down to test the water, then took a bottle of something from the ledge and poured a few capfuls of blue liquid in. At the sight of the bubbles that were foaming up, Dean's eyebrows lodged themselves somewhere in the vicinity of his hair.

"Seriously?" he said skeptically. "Bubble bath?"

"I was led to believe that little kids enjoy bubble bath."

"Yeah, _little kids_ do," Dean muttered, shaking his head. But there didn't seem to be much point in emptying the tub just to re-fill it, so he crossed his arms and waited, trying to remember the last time he'd been in a bathtub with bubbles. He couldn't. He remembered John buying a couple bottles from the dollar store and using them in Sam's bath, back when all it took to get Sam to smile was bubbles and a cheap plastic tugboat. Surely at some point, though, his mom or dad had given Dean a bath in bubbles too?

"It's ready," said Castiel, switching the tap off when the tub was nearly full. 

Dean stepped forward, ignoring the hand Castiel held out to brace him as he lifted one leg over the edge of the tub and then the other. He pulled the towel off and sank down with a gasp. The water was hotter than he was used to, but it still felt good on his muscles. Aches he hadn't even noticed were disappearing. He leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes, content to soak for a few minutes. Maybe the bath hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Hearing movement, he opened one eye a slit and saw that Castiel had taken a seat on the toilet. Apparently he really did intend on sitting there and watching. Well, fine. With the amount of bubbles he wasn't going to get much of a show. Castiel had poured in so much that there was a thick layer of white foam all over the surface of the water, and it didn't seem like it was going to dissipate anytime soon.

He scooped up a bit of the foam and blew on it, remembering how much Sam used to laugh when he piled the bubbles on his head in silly shapes. Or when he made it look like they both had beards. Or when Dean would pretend that he was a sea monster and grab at Sam's ankles when he wasn't looking. That used to make him go _crazy_. He'd shriek and laugh and squirm around so much that water would go all over the place and Dean would end up soaked.

Bath time with Sam used to be so much fun. But then Sam had started wanting to take showers like his big brother and daddy, and before Dean knew it he was sitting on the toilet watching Sam shower just like Castiel was. And then, once Sam was old enough to be trusted in the bathroom on his own, he just sat outside and watched television by himself.

"Dean?"

The sound of Castiel's voice made him start, and he realized that he had been absentmindedly playing with the bubbles while he remembered playing with Sam. He dropped his hands quickly, embarrassed, and turned to see that Castiel was holding out a washcloth. Dean took it and quickly set to scrubbing his legs. Angel grace did the trick in a pinch, but there was nothing quite like the power of hot water and soap to make you feel really clean.

When he was close to being finished, Castiel cleared his throat again. "Would you let me wash your back?"

Dean paused, the movement of his hand on his shoulder slowing, because that seemed like it was definitely crossing a line. But before he could say no, Castiel leaned forward and gently tugged the washcloth out of his hand. With a tenderness that made his skin crawl, Castiel set the cloth on the back of his shoulders and started to move it in slow, large circles. He sat perfectly still while this was happening, frozen.

Because the last person who had done this for him was Mary.

After Mary died, John had thrown himself into hunting and didn't have the time to spare on things like baths unless he had to. Dean, at age four, was considered old enough to bath himself. It had been a struggle at first, but he could remember wanting so badly to do it on his own so that he didn't have to bother his dad. He also remembered spending a lot of those baths crying quietly because he missed Mary so much. 

He wanted to speak, but he was afraid of what would come out of his mouth if he did. So he stayed silent, even when Castiel finished scrubbing his back and then moved on to washing his hair. He moved when and where Castiel told him to, uncertain how he should feel about the movement of fingers in his hair as Castiel massaged the shampoo in. And then, when he lowered his head so that he could be rinsed, the angel pressed a palm over his eyes so that no shampoo would get in.

"All done," Castiel announced, reaching in to pull the plug.

Dean didn't move.

"Dean?"

Slowly, he turned his head and looked up. Whatever on his face made Castiel's eyes widen and then go very, very soft. He stood up and reached into the tub, lifting Dean to his feet and then helping him to step over the tub. When Dean shivered, feeling pathetic and lost, Castiel wrapped a warm towel around his shoulders and, even more surprisingly, pulled him into an even warmer hug.

"It's okay, baby," he murmured against the top of Dean's head. "It's okay."


	10. Chapter 10

The lost, lonely look on Dean's face brought all of Castiel's protective instincts rushing to the surface. He held Dean in his arms for a long time and murmured to him reassuringly, wrestling with the anger that made him want to go back in time and punch John Winchester in the face for being so neglectful, until Dean had relaxed and was standing there complacently with his head resting on Castiel's shoulder. It wasn't quite a hug back, because Dean's arms were still hanging limply at his sides, but it was a step in the right direction. Having a conscious, pliable Dean to hug made every fight worthwhile.

After a few minutes, Dean started to shiver as the air in the room cooled off. Castiel stroked his hair one last time and then stepped back, urging him to sit down on the toilet. Dean obeyed, looking up at Castiel with slightly glazed eyes as Castiel rewrapped the towel around his shoulders. He wasn't zoned out, though, the way Castiel thought that he might be. He was aware enough to tense a little when Castiel took a razor and some shaving cream out of the bathroom cupboard.

"I'm just going to shave your face," Castiel told him, reaching out and running his thumb down the curve of Dean's jaw. With time, the grace would stop the growth of Dean's hair - face, body and head included - until he reached the point where he would be able to will his hair to grow if he wanted it to. In the meantime, Castiel had no problems with helping him to shave. He squirted some of the cream onto his hands and carefully slathered it over Dean's face, making sure to leave Dean's mouth clear, and then reached for the razor.

Dean tensed even more when the blade was brought close to his cheek, and there was a slight look of fear in his eyes. Castiel paused, waiting, wanting to show Dean that he was willing to be patient, that he wouldn't do anything his little boy wasn't okay with. He watched as Dean's eyes darted from Castiel to the razor and back again for several seconds and finally decided to speak up.

"Daddy won't hurt you, Dean," he said quietly, slowly bringing the razor to Dean's cheek. He pressed it down gently, ready to stop at the slightest sign that Dean was scared. But while Dean's hands flexed nervously against his thighs - and he hadn't even seemed to notice that, aside from the towel around his shoulders, he was still naked - he didn't protest or try to move away. So Castiel carefully slid the razor down, following the contours of his cheek with as much care and precision as was possible. Then he rinsed the razor off and repeated the motion. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

"You're being such a good boy for me," he murmured, hardly aware that he was speaking, but noticing that the words had a relaxing effect on Dean. Whether Dean just liked the sound of his voice or what he was saying, talking to him seemed to make him feel better. He added, "Daddy's very proud of you, sweetheart, for trusting him to do this. I can't think of anyone else who would have the opportunity to do this for you."

Because that was the truth, was it not? Both of Dean Winchester's arms and every bone in his hands would have to be broken before he would allow his brother to do this, and Castiel couldn't imagine anyone else would ever get this close to Dean with a razor without a major battle. He looked down at his little boy, overwhelmed at how trustingly Dean was tipping his head up so that Castiel could shave below. It would be so easy to cut Dean's throat right now, and surely the hunter in Dean must have been aware of that. Yet he was still here, eyes half-closed, letting Castiel shave him. It gave him hope that maybe Dean would be amenable to his plans after all.

He rinsed the razor off for the last time and patted Dean's smooth face dry. Like this, Dean looked even more childlike. His eyes looked bigger and more vulnerable without the scruff. He set the towel aside and knelt to get another pull-up from underneath the cabinet. Dean stepped into the hated garment without argument, even letting Castiel tug them into place around his hips. A fresh set of pajamas followed, these ones patterned with cowboy hats and boots.

"I'll get you a cup of water, and then you can get into bed and I'll read you a story," Castiel said, opening the bathroom door. It only took him a moment to run to the kitchen and pour some water into Dean's sippy cup. Now that he'd used it once, Castiel wasn't going to let him backtrack to a regular glass. He added roughly a teaspoon of his grace, which turned the clear liquid a beautiful silvery color, and then screwed the top back on.

Dean was already in bed, but he was still sitting up. He frowned at the cup but took it, lifting it to his face and wrapping his lips around the spout. Castiel picked up a book from the bookshelf and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as he sucked at the concoction. Amazingly, just as Gabriel had said, the grace didn't burn him as he swallowed. If anything, although Dean would probably never admit it, he looked like he was enjoying the taste. Under Castiel's scrutiny, though, he squirmed, and Castiel realized he was making Dean nervous.

"I wasn't sure what you would like to read," he said, quickly turning his gaze away towards the book on his knee. Maybe talking helped to give Dean something else to focus on, letting him enjoy a childlike activity without worrying about it too much? He held up the book. "The attendant in the bookstore recommended this one. He said it was very interesting."

"Harry Potter? Really?" Dean asked, scrunching his nose up. "That's for geeks."

At least he hadn't said it was for little kids. Castiel would take that as a step in the right direction, even though he knew the story wouldn't be appropriate for most normal little kids. The attendant had made sure that he was aware the novels became progressively darker as they continued. But even as a nestling, Dean wouldn't be able to forget the horrors he'd seen and done, so Castiel said, "He described the story to me and I thought that we would enjoy it. Besides, you'll be able to shock Sam the next time you see him."

Dean opened his mouth and then paused, thinking this over. Finally, he smirked. "Fine. But I don't promise to like it."

"If you don't like it, we'll find something else," Castiel replied. He was grateful that Dean wasn't protesting being read a story in the first place, because he thought it would be an excellent way to send Dean to sleep every night. Part of Dean's problem was the natural human inclination for the mind to wander and fester on problems or trauma during relaxation; this would give him something else to focus on. Gradually he hoped to start introducing younger, more age appropriate books, though he suspected that if there was ever a line for Dean Winchester to draw, it would be that one.

He opened the book and cleared his throat, reading out the first line. Dean continued to sip quietly from his cup, letting out a faint huff of breath at times when he was amused or surprised. By the middle of the chapter, his cup was empty and he was drumming the side of his fingers against it to keep himself awake. Castiel paused just long enough to take the cup and set it on the nightstand, then waited pointedly until Dean reclined against the pillow. He pulled the covers up around Dean's chest before he returned to the story, pretending not to notice Dean's puzzled frown. 

It took a chapter and a half of Dean's eyes slowly sliding shut and then snapping back open as he struggled to stay awake, before he finally relaxed into sleep. A little amused at his stubbornness, Castiel shook his head and closed the book. He could admit that he was a little curious about the story as well, but he would wait for tomorrow to read anymore. This was something that he and Dean could share. Dean seemed to like seeing Castiel's reaction to the story just as much as he liked the story itself, which wasn't surprising: it had always amused Dean to see the angel's reactions to humanity.

But he did wonder whether that could be used to his advantage in other ways as well, if maybe the key to getting Dean more comfortable with being a child was to lead by example. Castiel pondered this as he shut the lights off and left the room, leaving the door open a crack to let a little light in. Dean was embarrassed when he acted like a child, even when it was just him and Castiel, but if Castiel were participating in the same activities he might be more willing to let himself go. And it would help to convince him that, unlike humans, Castiel legitimately did not care about what was supposed to be normal. This night had been an excellent start and he wanted to keep the momentum going.

With these thoughts in mind, he did a little preparation and then spent the rest of the night communing with Gabriel through grace. Heaven was slowly sorting itself out according to the archangel, though Raphael was still being a dumbass. Gabriel also added that Samandriel and Balthazar had both expressed an interest in visiting Castiel soon. Castiel regretfully declined, at least for the time being, knowing that the presence of too many angels would push Dean in the opposite direction. As it was, Gabriel's presence had been a risk. It was pure coincidence that Dean had been so out of it with fear that he hadn't reacted negatively.

The shuffling of footsteps eventually registered with the small part of his focus that was still on the nest, and he said his goodbyes to Gabriel. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dean stumbling into the room. "Good morning, Dean."

"Morning. I - what are you doing?"

Castiel glanced down at the coffee table, admiring the stack of coloring books and the two large boxes of crayons he had put there the night before. "I thought we could color."

Dean's face did something admirable, torn between indignation and curiosity. The latter won, and he said, " _You_ want to color?" in tones of great disbelief.

"I have never done it before. It seems like a soothing activity," Castiel said, sliding one of the books towards him. When he opened it, the first page had a picture of a woman in a fancy dress. He selected a purple crayon and began to color her dress.

"There's an angel in the living room coloring," Dean muttered to himself, shaking his head. Slowly, he came a little bit closer, watching. Castiel pretended not to notice, and at one point when he went over the thick black line, Dean let out a frustrated sound.

"Dude, you're supposed to stay in the lines!"

"I didn't know," Castiel lied. He held the crayon out to Dean. "Will you show me?"

Dean hesitated, then grabbed another book from the stack. "Not with that one. That one's for girls," he proclaimed, opening his chosen book to reveal a cowboy on his horse. After careful consideration, he selected a light brown crayon and began to color the horse. As promised, not a single dot of color went over the black line. "See, you gotta stay inside the lines or else it won't look right."

"I see," Castiel said, hiding his smile, and turned back to his own picture, this time making sure he stayed inside of the line.


	11. Chapter 11

Coloring was actually turning out to be more fun than Dean thought it would be. He sat back after what felt like a really long time and examined his picture, feeling a sense of pride as he looked at the now brown horse - and all the brown was within the black lines. He'd chosen to make the cowboy's clothing red, even though he knew that wasn't really traditional, and his hat was green. The gun he was holding had been colored blue. The weird colors made him smile.

He snuck a quick glance over at Castiel, seeing that the angel was working on a different picture now. But it wasn't really any better, since instead of one girl in a long dress it was now _two_ girls in long dresses standing in a garden. Castiel was carefully coloring the dress of the girl on the right a light blue. The other was already pale green. Well, at least he wasn't working with really girly colors. 

"Can I ask you something?" he said, dropping his eyes back to his own picture. He'd spent a little while thinking before he got out of bed today. The coloring had distracted him temporarily, but he had some questions to ask and he hoped that Castiel would be willing to answer them.

"Of course," Castiel said, sounding a little surprised. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched as he set his blue crayon down. Then the full force of that blue-eyed scrutiny was hitting the top of his head.

"Do you... um... is Jimmy still in there with you?" he asked in a rush. "Because... I was thinking... that he must not be very happy if he is. I don't think that this is what the dude signed on for."

There was a pause and he chanced a look up. Castiel met his gaze and said slowly, "I'm sorry, Dean. It hadn't occurred to me that is something you would be concerned about. I should have told you before. When I was brought back after dying in Chuck's house, Jimmy was not with me. I sensed his absence within the vessel immediately and journeyed to heaven to make sure he was okay. He is currently occupying a small fragment of heaven, watching over Claire and Amelia. This vessel is mine alone."

Dean exhaled, feeling a wave of relief at those words. This process was going to be awkward enough with just Castiel around. He couldn't imagine going through it knowing that Jimmy was watching and (most likely) judging. "That's cool. You must miss him a lot, though."

"It was very strange at first to be alone. Though for the most part Jimmy was asleep, there were times when he was conscious and we were able to converse. He even offered me advice on occasion. I have grown used to being alone, though, and I still return to heaven to see him now and again."

"You're way more sentimental than I thought, dude," Dean said with a small smile. He didn't know why, but he liked the thought that Castiel cared enough to check up on Jimmy. "Is he angry?"

"He was frustrated at first, yes. He told me that he was not expecting for things to end up this way when he agreed to let me into his body." Castiel sighed, looking very tired and very _human_. "I told him the truth, that I had not expected for this to happen, either. Though I am not sure I would have changed anything had I known. Being able to save you and Sam was always my priority."

Dean flushed. He didn't think he'd ever get used to how weirdly open Castiel was sometimes. He just blurted out things that no normal human would be comfortable saying. "That's, um, good I guess. Would I be able to visit him sometime?"

"You will eventually be able to go to heaven, yes. But I suspect it is not Jimmy you have a real interest in visiting."

He squirmed. Okay, so maybe it wasn't really Jimmy he wanted to talk to. Dean had only ever met the guy once, after all. But there were an awful lot of other people up there that Dean did want to see. Jo, Ellen, Ash and his mom topped the list, not to mention Victor Henriksen, Jess, and all the people who had been lost on hunts. God, how amazing would it be to be able to tell Sam that Jess was okay and put to rest something that Sam had been wrestling with for years?

"Dean," Castiel said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "There is no shame in wanting to see your loved ones again. But you should understand that it will be a long time before you are capable of that. The only other way would be for you to die again and your soul go to heaven, and I'm not comfortable with taking that risk. There are too many rogue angels who might try to stop you from coming back."

"No, I get it. It's fine. The possibility of someday is more than I thought I'd get," Dean said, though there was a little part of him that was disappointed.

Castiel looked at him closely for a few more seconds before he nodded. "Do you have any other questions for me?"

"Yeah. I... um..." Dean trailed off, because this one was much harder to put into words. "Other nestlings don't get treated the way you treat me."

"No, they're not."

"So... I mean... where are you trying to go with... with this?" He waved his hand lamely to encompass the coloring books and the way he was dressed and finally just spit it out. "'Cause all of the nestlings I've seen don't act like little kids. Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, Dean. There is nothing wrong with you," came the firm response, and Dean relaxed just a tiny bit. "You are correct when you say that most nestlings revert to an age in their early teens or late childhood. But it is not uncommon for some to revert further back. It depends on the individual."

Dean absorbed this. "So you think I'm going to start acting like a little kid and that's why you're trying to treat me like one in advance?"

"I think that there is a good possibility that you may regress further because of the things you have been through. I also think it would be good for you to allow that to happen," Castiel said carefully.

"Why?"

"Because you didn't have much of a childhood, Dean. No matter what excuses or explanations you have, it's the truth. And you have been through more in your life than any other human I have encountered. The grace is going to bring everything you've repressed to the surface. The younger you are, the more easy it will be for you to accept the care I want to give you while it's happening."

It sounded like bullshit. But it was obvious that Castiel really believed it. Dean stared down at his coloring book, trying to figure out how he was supposed to respond to this. The thought of acting like a little kid was still not an appealing one, even if Castiel was okay with it. He just had a hard time imagining that he would ever be able to let it happen. Could he ever call Castiel "Daddy"? Could he ever let the angel carry him or help him bathe without feeling really weird?

"I dunno," he muttered finally.

"It's not as unusual as you seem to think, Dean. This is not exclusive to angels and nestlings," Castiel told him. "I did some research before I approached you. There are some humans who do this on a regular basis. It makes them feel good to relive their childhood, to have no responsibilities and to focus on the simple things." He touched the edge of the coloring book with his finger. "They find it very... freeing."

"Really?" Dean said doubtfully. "It just sounds weird."

A hint of a smile twitched at Castiel's mouth. "I'm sure they would take offence to hear you say that. But yes, really. If you like, I can procure a laptop and you can do some research of your own. It may help you to become more comfortable with the idea."

Dean nodded immediately. He wasn't a huge fan of research, but he had been a hunter long enough to know exactly how valuable it could be. Plus he wanted to know if Castiel was telling the truth about his whole acting like a little kid thing being an actual thing. "Yes please."

"I will ask Gabriel to bring one."

"Thanks," Dean said. There was just one more question buzzing around in his head. "Exactly how young were you aiming to take this?"

"As young as it takes."

It was an answer as much as it wasn't, which was not surprising: Castiel had always been excellent at deflecting. He couldn't say he was shocked, but it didn't bother him like he would have expected. He had his suspicions, but he would wait for the laptop. "Fair enough. Make sure Gabriel brings that laptop today."

Castiel turned his head slightly, his eyes glazing over in the way that Dean knew meant he was communing with heaven or another angel. He watched with more fascination this time, wondering if someday he would be able to do that too. On the one hand it would be really cool. On the other hand, 99% of the angels he'd met were dicks and he didn't really like the thought of having their voices in his head all the time. 

"Done," Castiel said, and Dean startled. "Gabriel says he will bring the laptop tonight. Apparently he could use a break."

"I don't blame him. Frankly it's amazing he hasn't taken off again."

"Agreed," Castiel admitted, toying with a crayon. "I am not certain what keeps him in heaven, but I'm glad for his presence. Without him, heaven could have easily descended into civil war."

Just the thought of more fighting was enough to make Dean grimace. He pushed his coloring book away, deciding that they needed something much better to talk about - and what was better than food? "I'm hungry."

"It's almost lunchtime. What do you want to eat?"

He shrugged. "Can we order pizza?" The question came out so easily that he wondered at himself. Before this, he never would've asked for permission. He'd have grabbed his phone and asked Castiel if he wanted any, but he wouldn't have asked if they could get some. 

"Not for the first meal of the day," Castiel said, looking amused. "I can probably talk Gabriel into bringing some of that around too, if you want."

"Yeah!" Dean said, grinning. "But make it a meat lovers, okay? None of that veggie shit I had to put up with from Sammy."

"Yes, Dean." Castiel seemed even more amused. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Pancakes and bacon," Dean said decisively, because if he couldn't have pizza that was the next best thing.

"Do you know how to make pancakes?"

"I do, but I don't think you have the ingredients."

"Wait here, then, and don't move. I will go get some."

Almost before he'd finished speaking, Castiel was gone. Dean looked at the place where he'd been. This was the first time he'd been alone since they had come here. It was an excellent opportunity. But he didn't do anything. He sat there and waited, and within five minutes Castiel returned with the promised pancakes and bacon. It seemed like a fair trade.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was sitting on the couch watching a movie when he heard the distinct sound of wings. He tensed immediately, his eyes darting to the kitchen door. There was just enough time for half a dozen panicked thoughts to tumble through his head - Castiel was out on the porch, Dean didn't have a weapon, wasn't this place supposed to be hidden? - before Gabriel strolled into the room. At the sight of the archangel, Dean blew out his breath in an annoyed sigh and grabbed the remote to pause the movie. Iago had some of the best lines when he was arguing with Jafar, and he didn't want to miss them.

"You look like the cat dragged you in," he observed, eyeing Gabriel critically. It was the truth. For an angel, Gabriel was very vain. There was never a hair out of place on his vessel. Usually. But right then, Gabriel's hair was mussed and his clothing was wrinkled. He was also scowling like he desperately wanted to smite something, though his lips twitched a little when he looked over at Dean.

"Better start being nicer, kiddo, or Uncle Gabriel won't bring you any more presents."

Torn between another sarcastic comment and the sight of the sleek, shiny computer tucked under Gabriel's arm, Dean frowned. Then he said the only diplomatic thing that he could think of: "I'm never going to call you that. Ever."

Gabriel laughed and came a little closer, dropping the computer in his lap. "You say that now, but I won't hold it against you when you start feeling differently. What's your daddy?"

"Out on the porch," Dean said without looking up, only realizing _after_ Gabriel had already left the room that he hadn't corrected Gabriel in calling Castiel his daddy. He frowned even more deeply at the computer and quickly opened the lid, waiting impatiently for it to finish starting up. He had a lot of stuff that he needed to look up and fast.

Finally, the screen booted and he immediately opened up the search engine. He typed in 'adults acting like little kids' and a bunch of results came up. Some were definitely not what he was after, and some of them were about hatchlings. He avoided those for the time being, first wanting to know more about the humans that, according to Castiel, chose to do this kind of thing just because they thought it was fun. It didn't take him long to stumble across the term 'age play', and after that he really started finding some interesting sites that had a lot of information.

Dean browsed for hours. It was easily the longest he'd spent on research in a while. Sam would've been shocked. But it was way more fascinating stuff than any hunt had ever been. Even when he moved on to the stuff about nestlings, there was a lot of detail about angels that he'd never known before. Like the fact that nestlings grew wings, a process which was similar to teething. Or that angel wings needed to be preened on a regular basis to keep them in peak condition. Or the fact that all angels were expected to take a nestling at some point. Or that nestlings were actually very welcome in heaven.

He read until his eyes started to hurt in the dim light and his back protested at being bent over for so long. He straightened up reluctantly and leaned back against the couch, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. So Castiel was right. There really were people out there who did this kind of thing for fun. And while some of them did it because they found it sexy - which, okay, as far as Dean was concerned there was _nothing_ sexy about this - others did it because it was a way to unwind and feel loved. One website had even pointed out that age play had a lot of the same emotional connotations as BDSM play, because one person was put in charge of another.

Which was all well and fine. Dean had never been into judging people. But he still wasn't sure about how this all related to him. It still sounded like an awful lot of work, for one thing, and he didn't know why Castiel would be willing to step up and do it. The nestling part he understood better now, because Castiel was awkward enough that he would've had a hard time finding another human to say yes if Dean hadn't agreed, but the rest of it? Unless Dean regressed that far, and he was confident he could keep himself from doing so no matter how much grace he consumed, it just wasn't necessary.

So then why was Castiel so intent on taking it that far? Maybe even further than it already had. He glanced down at himself automatically, taking in the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. They were brand new, not clothing from his duffle bag, but still looked like something he might've walked into Wal-mart and picked out for himself. The pull-up, on the other hand, crinkled faintly every time he moved. It was impossible for him to forget that he was wearing it. Which, if he was willing to believe what Castiel said, was the whole point.

Dean sighed and lifted his hands to rub his eyes, feeling a headache forming in his temple. Probably from spending so much time on the computer when he wasn't used to it. Put him behind the wheel of his baby for fourteen hours and he was fine, but three or four hours on the computer and his head was just pounding. At least some of his questions had been answered, though there was still more he wanted to look up. Later, though. For the moment, he set the computer aside and stood up with a wince. He couldn't wait until he'd consumed enough grace to not having to worry about muscles aches or headaches anymore.

Neither Castiel nor Gabriel had come back into the cabin as far as he knew, and he hadn't been that intent on his work. Dean walked over to the window and drew the curtain back, peeking out. As he'd expected, the two angels were sitting on the porch again. Or, well, Castiel was sitting in a chair. Gabriel was kneeling in front of him, facing away from Dean. Castiel's hands were busy, though to Dean's eyes it looked like he was just waving his hands around in midair. He would make his hand into a claw shape and rake the air, occasionally pinching at nothing and making a motion like he was flicking it away. It took a couple of minutes of watching and puzzling over it before he understood: preening. Castiel was grooming Gabriel's wings.

That was... kind of cool. Enough to make him wish that he could actually see the process, though it was also comforting to have proof that he was still human enough for that to be impossible. He stood there and watched a little longer. He couldn't see Gabriel's face, but the archangel was obviously relaxed. The tension in his shoulders was gone and he was leaning back against Castiel's legs, chin lowered to his chest. He kind of looked a little like a kitten that was basking in its master's attention. The thought made Dean smirk.

More than anything, though, what struck him was the complete _trust_ between them. Gone was the animosity that had once plagued Castiel's and Gabriel's relationship. Right then Castiel could've stuck an angel blade in his brother's back and Gabriel would've been none the wiser. The only person that Dean trusted that much was Sam, but... He swallowed hard, thinking of Ruby. Thinking of how mad he'd been after Sam came up with the ludicrous idea of actually allowing Lucifer into his body so that he could try to overpower the devil. Thinking of how he hadn't actually talked to Sam since his brother left for Stanford. Thinking of just how out of sync he and Sam had gotten.

Really, Dean didn't have anyone to trust right now. But if this thing was going to work between him and Castiel, no matter how far it went or what kind of role play it included, he was going to have to trust Castiel more than he had ever trusted anyone. He would be completely vulnerable. If he had been asked, Dean would have said that Sam was easily the most important thing in his life. And he'd entrusted his brother to Castiel more than once. So why was he hesitating so much to entrust himself? It should have been the easier decision to make; he wasn't nearly as valuable as Sam was, after all.

Those kinds of thoughts weren't making his headache any better. He shuffled over to the door and pushed it open, poking his head out. Castiel glanced up and smiled at him, but Gabriel didn't react. Dean slowly stepped out onto the deck, half-expecting Gabriel to suddenly come alive and chase him off. It felt like he was intruding on something very private.

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel said, flexing the fingers of one hand. He held that hand out to Dean. And, after a second of hesitation, Dean took it and allowed himself to be pulled closer. 

Even from this vantage point, he couldn't make out anything between Gabriel and Castiel. Experimentally, he poked at the air. His eyes widened when his finger tingled like he'd just been shocked, only a lot more pleasant, and he quickly pulled his hand back.

Gabriel snorted. "You can't hurt them, if that's what you're concerned about, and since you're Cassie's nestling I don't really care if you touch. Just make sure your hands aren't covered in chocolate or paint."

Dean looked at Castiel with huge eyes, too amazed to bother being offended over the last remark.

With what looked like a lot of effort, Castiel did a very poor job of smothering a smile. "What's wrong, little one? Are you in pain?"

"My head hurts," Dean admitted uncomfortably. He was half-expecting Castiel to react the same way his father would have, which would be a gruff "unless you need stitches, take an aspirin and be quiet". But he wasn't even sure there was any medication in the house. Maybe it would've been better to just go upstairs and lay down?

But even as that went through his head, Castiel pulled him closer still, until Dean was standing between his legs. Gabriel had leaned forward to let this happen, but now he leaned back against Dean, effectively caging him in. He should have felt trapped. He didn't. He stood still as Castiel reached up and pressed his palm to Dean's forehead. There was a cooling sensation, like someone had splashed him with cold water, and then the pain faded away.

"Is that better?" Castiel asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"Yeah. Thanks." Dean blinked, realizing that his eyes were still tired. He really didn't want to go back to the computer. "Why are you, um, grooming Gabriel?"

"Because he's a mess," Castiel said.

"Hey, you try keeping your wings in mint condition when you hardly have five minutes to yourself. You don't know how lucky you are, Cassie. You only have one baby to deal with. I have like a million," Gabriel grumbled.

Dean twisted around and frowned at the back of Gabriel's head. "I am _not_ a baby."

"Whatever, kiddo."

"Gabriel, please," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. He continued running his hands through Gabriel's wings, working around Dean this time. Dean watched in quiet fascination, wishing more than ever that he could see Gabriel's wings. 

"How long until I can see them?" he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Castiel seemed surprised by the question, but he answered readily enough. "Not until you grow wings of your own."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know, Dean. It's different for every nestling."

Not really the answer that Dean wanted, but at least Castiel was being honest. Still, as he watched Gabriel sigh and moan under Castiel's ministrations like it was the best thing he'd ever felt, even if what he'd read on the internet said it would hurt a lot, Dean found himself looking forward to it.


	13. Chapter 13

For the next week, every night Dean would retire to bed a couple of hours early and spend that time alone with his head bent over the screen of his laptop, searching through the internet to find out more information. When it was actually time for him to sleep, Castiel would come into the room with the sippy cup of grace, prying the laptop out of Dean's fingers, and read a couple chapters of Harry Potter. Without fail, by the time he was finished the second chapter, Dean would be sound asleep.

Much to Castiel's private surprise, the research Dean was doing really did seem to be making him more comfortable with what was going on. Not that he was any more okay with physical affection, and he still looked at Castiel with curiosity sometimes, like he couldn't understand why this was happening, but he stopped arguing as much as he had. He didn't fight the bath, or the pull-ups, or the sippy cup, or even when Castiel put his bee on the bed beside him at night.

Castiel's initial, unvoiced fear, which was that even after some research Dean would deem the whole thing stupid and embarrassing and refuse to go along with it, didn't seem like it was going to come to pass. And after a whole week of a surprisingly peaceful coexistence, he decided that it was time for the both of them to get out of the nest for a while.

The sun was shining as he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. It was a lovely day, easily warm enough for Dean to be able to swim, and Castiel smiled as he turned back. Dean was still standing inside, his arms crossed, and Castiel said, "Are you coming?"

"Where?"

"I thought we would go for a walk. I can tell you're getting restless, Dean. You're not used to being inside for such long periods of time. Some exercise will do us both good."

Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder at the woods. His struggle was written all over his face. He clearly wanted to go, but something was holding him back. "I don't want anyone to - No, I'm not going."

"No one will see you, Dean," Castiel said gently, correctly guessing what was worrying his little boy if Dean's flinch was any indication. "I told you before, when I built our nest, I made sure that it was isolated. We are miles away from the nearest cabin, and the only other person who knows where we are is Gabriel."

He still didn't look convinced. "But... _look_ at me."

Castiel openly looked him up and down, not seeing anything wrong. Dean was dressed in black shorts today because of the heat, which had been paired with a green t-shirt that had a picture of a cowboy on it. He was also wearing sneakers. As far as Castiel was concerned, he looked adorable. But Dean had his arms folded across his chest in an attempt to hide the picture and his cheeks were stained an embarrassed pink. He was practically cringing.

"Dean." Castiel stepped back into the house and reached out to cup Dean's cheek. It was almost imperceptible, but Dean leaned into the touch just a little and Castiel sang with internal joy. Out loud, he said, "If you're not ready for this, I understand. But I'm your daddy. I will _never_ let anything hurt you. I will know if anyone approaches us. No one will see you until you're okay with it."

"What if I never am?" Dean shot back. His bottom lip was trembling a bit, and he licked his lips quickly as though to make it stop. "I... I can't stop thinking about how weird it is. I'm a frigging adult."

"I know it would be easier on you if I changed your physical body to reflect that of your mental age, but I can't do that. Not only would the grace you're consuming kill a child, but it would mean taking away your consent. You're here because you want this, right?"

Dean grew still. His eyes met Castiel's. "I... yes?"

"And you trust me?" Castiel asked, genuinely wanting to know. He could see how hard this was for Dean, and it hurt. It shouldn't be this hard for Dean to understand that someone wanted to love him. It shouldn't have had to come to this point in the first place. 

It took a long time for Dean to answer, but finally he whispered, "Yes."

"I trust you, too, and I love you, Dean."

He could see the physical way that Dean reacted to those words, his face going white, and reached forward, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulders to support him. "You're a good boy," he whispered into Dean's ear. "Daddy's good little boy, Dean. Daddy loves you and I'm so, so proud of you. I know this has been hard for you. You've been alone for so long that you don't even remember what it's like to be able to lean on someone. That won't happen again."

Even if he had to first break Dean down to the bare, intimate, vulnerable layers that Dean Winchester had sworn no one would ever see, he would teach Dean that he could depend on someone, that Castiel had been and always would be there. That he could let go, because Castiel would catch him.

It took a long time for Dean to stop shaking and regain his composure. When he did, he lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe... maybe just a little ways."

"Are you sure? We can inside and paint instead, if you want."

"No. I..." Dean hesitated, glancing out the door again. His eyes lingered on the trees. "I don't want to go far."

"We can turn back as soon as you want to," Castiel promised. He waited for Dean to take the first step forward, wondering if he had misjudged. Maybe this really was too soon and Dean wasn't ready after all. It was one thing to try acting like a little kid inside the nest, but something else entirely to take that dynamic outside.

But Dean took one step and then another, leading the way out the door onto the porch. Castiel shut the door behind them, though he didn't bother to lock it. He continued to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye, noticing that Dean's hands were opening and closing nervously. Impulsively, Castiel reached out and took his hand.

"You need to hold Daddy's hand so you don't get lost."

The look on Dean's face would have made him laugh under any other circumstances, but in this case Castiel pretended not to notice. He moved forward, down the steps and onto the dirt, and right before he would've actually been pulling Dean along, Dean followed. He didn't step up next to Castiel but stayed behind him, like a little kid trying to hide behind their daddy's legs.

Castiel suppressed a warm smile and squeezed Dean's hand lightly before he started to walk. Their feet crunched lightly over a few fallen leaves on the path. The air smelled sweet, like pine leaves and flowers, and Castiel could detect a faint hint of honey and hear the buzzing of bees. He could also hear rustling in the bushes that indicated there was other animal life around them: squirrels, foxes, rabbits, birds, possibly even a possum or two.

They walked in silence for about five minutes. Slowly, the tension in Dean eased and he started to relax. He stepped up beside Castiel and looked around with more interest instead of keeping his gaze on the ground. It had been a long time since Dean had taken a walk in the woods just for the fun of it, not since he and Sam were little kids hiding out in a hunting cabin while their father tried to hunt down a wendigo. 

"That's lavender," Castiel said, pointing to the right side of the path as they came to a fork. A small crop of purple flowers had sprouted. 

Dean made a face. "I don't care about flowers. What's that?" 

Castiel cocked his head, though he already guessed what had caught Dean's attention. From where they were standing, the sound of the lake was just audible to human ears. "I told you that we were near water."

"Can we go see?" Dean asked.

"Of course. It's this way." Castiel gestured to the left, leading Dean down that path. In less than three minutes, the path curved sharply and then the trees opened up to reveal the lake about twenty feet away. It wasn't very large, fed by underground springs, but it was surrounded on all sides by forest. Unless someone was already aware of its existence, it would've been nearly impossible to stumble across it accidentally. 

"Wow," Dean breathed, his eyes wide like the lake was the best thing he'd ever seen. About halfway between the path where they stood and the water began, the grass turned to sand. He tugged his hand free and ran, not for the water, but for the sand, dropping to one knee and grabbing a handful.

"You like playing with sand?" Castiel asked, not upset that Dean had pulled away from him. As long as Dean stayed within his view, he was more than willing to let his little boy play to his heart's content. Besides, he knew from watching Dean's memories that Dean was an excellent swimmer. Both he and Sam had been taught at a very early age. 

"It's cool. I taught Sammy how to make the best sandcastles."

"The next time we come, I'll bring some toys. Then you can make all the sandcastles that you want."

Dean spread his fingers, letting the sand trickle through. He didn't say anything. When it was all gone, he dusted his hands off and stood up. "Can I go swimming?"

"Yes. Give me your shorts and your t-shirt, and take your sneakers off."

He obeyed, kicking his sneakers off and then pulling his socks and shorts off. When he was down to just his shirt and the pull-up, he started to take the pull-up off first.

"No, Dean."

"But I can't swim in this!"

"Yes you can. I guessed that you would want to go swimming, and that pull-up is designed specifically for that," Castiel said calmly. He wasn't against Dean swimming naked. But a little boy who wasn't potty trained would have worn a pull-up to go swimming, and so would Dean.

"No one's gonna see me," Dean argued.

"That's not the point."

"But it's not like I'm actually gonna go in it!"

"Dean," Castiel said sternly. "That's enough. You can either go swimming as you are or not at all, the choice is yours."

Dean scowled so ferociously that, for a moment, Castiel expected him to choose the latter. Instead, he yanked his shirt off, threw it on the ground, and stomped off towards the water. Castiel sighed and bent to pick up the shirt, giving it a flap to remove the grains of sand that now clung to it. 

At first Dean inched into the water, which was likely still cold at this time of the day even though the sun was shining. Then he suddenly ducked under, letting a wave wash over his head. When he surfaced, shaking his head like a puppy, he started to swim laps back and forth. Castiel sat down on the ground with a neat pile of Dean's clothing beside him, keeping a watchful eye on his charge.

Eventually Dean lost interest in swimming laps and started to play. He pried rocks out of the wet sand near the shore just to see how far he could throw them. He tried multiple times to sneak up on the tiny fish that lived in the lake, letting out a frustrated whine every time the fish sensed his presence and scattered. Then, apparently tired, he sat down so that he was only waist deep in water and giggled whenever a wave was strong enough to knock him off balance.

It was adorable, and it was a good thing that Dean wasn't watching him because there was no way Castiel could have hidden his smile this time. Dean was finally acting like a little kid, and listening to the sound of his giggles, Castiel never wanted it to end.


	14. Chapter 14

Considering that he was thirty years old, Dean really should have known better than to go out in the sun for several hours without putting on sunscreen first. 

It was a lesson that had been drummed into him as a kid, back when he first learned that, while Sam and their father would turn an envious shade of gold in the sun, Dean did not tan. At all. His skin went from pale and freckled straight to sunburned, and he was unfortunate enough that his sunburns always hurt, always peeled and always took ages to fade. Yet somehow, every summer there was at least one or two days when the concept of sunscreen slipped his mind and he ended up with a sunburn.

Today was no different, except that maybe the sunburn wasn't as bad as it could have been because Castiel had noticed that his skin was bypassing pink and was heading towards a nice shade of red before Dean did. His shoulders, the back of his neck, ears, face, chest, stomach, lower back, thighs, knees, shins, toes... basically every part of his body not covered by that damn pull-up, and suddenly he was kind of glad that Castiel had insisted he wear it because he did not need a sunburn on his dick on top of everything else. As it was, Dean stared mournfully down at his chest as they walked back to the house. It didn't hurt to move, but he knew that in no time at all his skin was going to get that tight feeling and then he wouldn't want anything touching him. 

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said for about the sixth time, gently squeezing Dean's hand. 

"It's not your fault," Dean muttered, because it really wasn't. Castiel was an _angel_ that didn't even eat or sleep. Sunburn was probably a foreign concept to him. It was Dean's own stupidity that had led him to end up with this problem. He glanced down at their joined hands and winced at the sight of their skin side by side. Yeah, he was definitely going to be hurting tonight.

"I should have known." Castiel pursed his lips, looking annoyed. "I tried to do research before bringing you here."

"Dude, sunburn doesn't even happen to everyone, so it's not a big deal. I just... lost the genetic lottery, okay?" Dean shrugged. He was pretty sure Mary used to sunburn, too. Or at least he had a vague recollection of her slathering sunscreen all over him and then herself while John laughed at them. 

"Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm fine."

Castiel gave him a searching look, like he wasn't sure he believed Dean was being honest, but did not try to heal him. They reached the front porch of the cabin and walked up the steps together. Dean sighed as he entered, a little knot of tension in his chest coming undone as the door was shut behind them. It turned out that Castiel was telling the truth when he said the cabin was completely isolated, and it would be next to impossible for someone to sneak up on an angel, but it was hard for him to shake the feeling that someone was going to pop out from behind a tree and see him.

"Can I have a drink?" he asked, rolling his shoulders in an effort to ease the stiffness that was settling in. He pulled his t-shirt over his shoulders, tossing it onto the arm of the couch. The air in the cabin wasn't particularly cool, but against his overheated skin it felt like it was and he shivered. 

"I'll get you some lemonade. You should answer your phone."

Dean looked around in surprise, because he hadn't even heard the sound of his ringtone. Now that Castiel mentioned it, he could hear it playing faintly. It took him a moment to locate his phone, following the sound until he found it tucked into the pocket of his jacket. He stared down at the screen. It was Sam. It was not the first time his brother had called him: far from it. For a man who wanted to get away, Sam was stubborn as hell and usually called at least every second or third day.

Until now, Dean had let those calls go to voicemail and then called Sam back later, when he knew his brother wouldn't be able to pick up. He was trying hard to be okay with the fact that Sam had gone back to Stanford, he really was, but it was a lot easier when he didn't have to listen to Sam brag about how great the place was. It was tempting to just let this call go unanswered too, but then Castiel would be sure to ask why and Dean didn't want to explain it. 

His phone stopped ringing as it went to voicemail, but it started back up again almost immediately. Apparently Sam wasn't going to give up easily. Dean licked his lips nervously, glancing at the kitchen. He hit the button to answer and slowly brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Dean?" Sam sounded kind of shocked that he'd actually picked up. 

"Hi Sammy."

"Fuck! Do you know how long I've been trying to get a hold of you? I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere! Bobby didn't know where you were! I even called Lisa! What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Sam was yelling so loud that Dean had to hold the phone away from his ear. 

"You called _Lisa_?" Dean repeated, amazed.

"I told you, I didn't know where you'd gone. For all I knew, some demon had you locked up and you were being forced to leave me those messages. Goddamnit, Dean, you scared me half to death."

There was no doubt in Dean's mind that his brother was sporting a full bitchface. "I'm sorry, Sammy, okay?" he muttered, staring hard at the ground. Sometimes apologizing was the easiest way to get Sam off his back, and he didn't feel up to being dragged over the rocks by his brother right then. He ducked his head, hunching his shoulders. "I just... needed a little time to myself, that's all."

"And there's nothing wrong with that so long as you let me know that you're alive," Sam said, though his voice was a little warmer now. "Bobby told me that you were hunting."

"I was."

"But now you're not." There was definitely a question there, even though Sam hadn't come right out and asked. 

Dean hesitated. It was one thing to talk to Bobby about this. Sam was a different matter entirely. But short of hanging up on his brother, he couldn't see any way to successfully divert this conversation. Still, just hanging up on him was looking like a more attractive option by the second. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear what Sam thought about all this. After a long pause, he said, "No, I'm not. I'm with Cas."

"Bobby told me," said Sam, confirming Dean's suspicions. "I think it's good, dude."

"You do?" Dean said, surprised, accepting a glass of lemonade when Castiel held it out to him. He nodded his thanks, watching as Castiel went back into the kitchen.

"God, Dean, you think I wanted you out there hunting all by yourself? I know, I know, you're perfectly capable of going on jobs without any back-up and you did it while I was gone the first time, but that's how hunters get killed. So yeah, I would take anything over you hunting alone. Besides, you needed a break just as much as I did. Since you weren't willing to settle down in any other way, whatever works. Though it figures it took Cas interfering to make you take a break for a while."

"Yeah, well," Dean mumbled, shivering again. He suddenly wished that he hadn't taken his t-shirt off, because the room felt even colder than before, like the temperature had dropped in the span of a few seconds. He swallowed hard, looking down at his bare feet. 

"I thought you were going to Lisa's, though. You changed your mind?"

And there it was, the skillfully hidden disappointment disguised as a probing question, an art that John Winchester had been exceptional at and which he'd passed on to both of his children. At that moment, Sam sounded exactly like their feather.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath against the sudden tightening in his chest, but it didn't work very well. His breath hitched when he forced himself to speak. "Lisa's moved on, Sammy. She has a life that doesn't involve me. The two of us fucked one weekend when we were both stupid kids. That's no reason to think that she'd actually want a relationship or something like that. There was no point in me going there and having it all fall apart."

"Right," Sam said, somehow managing to pack an awful lot of doubt into that one word. "And you think that being with Cas and becoming a nestling is the better option?"

"It will help me be a better hunter," Dean replied, but the reasoning rang cold and empty to his ears. He was pretty sure he wasn't imagining he faint scoff that came over the line.

"A better hunter? Man, that's why you're doing this? Cas deserves better than that. Don't do this unless you're willing to actually commit to it. If you're not, let him go out and find someone else."

His lungs weren't working that well anymore. Dean still had his eyes shut. It wasn't helping against the familiar sting of tears. "Don't you think I know that?" he snapped, surprising even himself with the anger in his voice. "I know how important this is, believe me, I've had it drummed into my head over the past two weeks."

"Good, if that's what you need to take this seriously. This is a really big deal to angels, Dean."

Then unspoken "so don't screw up" was so loud that it might as well have been said. Dean clenched his fingers into a fist, not minding the way his whole arm ached as the burned flesh was pulled. "I know. I'm trying."

"Good. I'm still doing good here," Sam went on, changing tracks completely. "Whatever Gabriel did to make everyone forget that we used to be on the FBI's most wanted list, it worked. People remember me, but they don't seem to make any connection between me and what was on the news. It's actually kind of nice. Some of my old professors even told me they'd give me letters of recommendation, and everyone's been really great about the time I took off."

"That's awesome, Sammy," he said, and he must have sounded reasonably steady because Sam didn't question him. Which would have been remarkable, except Dean had a lot of experience in sounding fine around his little brother, even when every word of praise that came out of Sam's mouth was like being punched in the stomach. And he _hated_ himself for feeling this way, because going back to Stanford had been Sam's dream since the day he left. Dean should have happy for him, not wishing that Sam would change his mind and decide that he wanted a lifetime of hunting after all.

He forced himself to sit there and listen to the rest of what Sam wanted to say: mostly inane details about his dorm room, his roommate, his classes, the cafeteria, and the part-time job he'd picked up at a local cafe. The only good thing about it was that Dean didn't really have to speak, just make the occasional grunt or sound to let Sam know that he was still listening. It should have been ample time to get himself under control, but the longer that he listened to Sam talk, the harder it got. At one point, when his breath audibly hitched again, he knew that he had to end the conversation. He was not going to sit here and have a breakdown where Sam could hear.

"Look, Sammy," he said shakily, "I gotta go. Cas is waiting for me to cook supper." It was the first excuse that came to mind that sounded even remotely reasonable, but Sam still chuckled.

"You, cooking? Man, I almost wish I was there to see that."

Dean froze, his mind going blank.

"Maybe I can come see you guys on my next break," Sam added. "Just... make sure you don't do anything to mess this up. And call me, you jerk. Or next time I'm going to pray to Gabriel and make him bring me to you, and you know how bitchy he gets when we need him to do something."

"I will."

"Good. Bye, Dean."

He hung up without choking out a goodbye, figuring that Sam wouldn't notice. He let the phone drop to the couch, bending double and jamming the heels of his palms into his eyes to stem the burn of tears. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just be happy for his brother? Why did he have to feel like Sam was leaving him behind? At least this time the two of them were still talking. Last time Sam went to Stanford, he wouldn't have cared if Dean had ended up in a dead in a ditch. It was a weird twist to think that now Sam was the one who was trying to keep in contact with him. 

And hell, maybe that would have been better than feeling like Sam was judging him for this or that Sam thought Castiel could do better than him.

"Dean?"

The sound of the soft, concerned voice broke through the deep, shuddery breaths he was forcing himself to take. Dean very pointedly refused to look up, because he was pretty sure his flimsy control would break entirely if he saw the same concern reflected in Castiel's face. 

"Make it stop," he whispered.

"Make what stop?"

"I can't - it's like a flood. It's gonna bury me," Dean said, mortified when his voice cracked. 

"Oh, baby." That was the only warning he got before Castiel scooped him up, cradling Dean on his hip just like a toddler. Dean quelled his automatic reaction to squirm away, instead wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck and hiding his face. This way, he didn't have to worry about Castiel trying to look at him. It was safer, even if it did make the urge to cry that much stronger.

Castiel's large hand rubbed up and down his back. "It's okay, Dean. You don't have to be scared to cry."

"'M not gonna cry!" he hissed, wiggling with discomfort, because now his sunburn was starting to really hurt.

The hand on his back paused momentarily before resuming. A light tingling sensation spread through Dean's body, easing the sting of the sunburn, and he knew without looking that his skin was back to its former pale glory. "I know. But you could, if you wanted to. If you needed to. That's what I'm here for. And I wouldn't think any less of you."

Dean didn't bother to dignify that with an answer, tightening his grip instead, forcing back to the overwhelming emotions and pressure. He didn't need to cry. No matter what Castiel said, he was not some _baby_. He was going to make it through this whole process with his dignity intact, even if it killed him.


	15. Chapter 15

When Dean woke up in the morning now, he didn't have to immediately jump out of bed. It was something of a novelty to be able to laze around in that delicious not quite awake, not quite asleep state, knowing that he didn't have to get up and worry about a hunt. Getting on the road earlier usually meant that he and Sam got that much further before having to pull over for the night, and the ability to get ready fast was something that John had hammered into their heads when they were pretty young; you never knew when a hasty exit might be necessary in the middle of the night. Most mornings, Dean was up and ready to go in under fifteen minutes.

Not this time. He allowed himself to indulge in a slow, luxurious stretch, letting his toes brush the bottom of the bed while his fingers reached up the wall. Then he relaxed back against the sheets, looking up at the ceiling with half open eyes. He knew that, if he wanted to, he could roll over and go back to sleep. Castiel never came to wake him up in the morning, and it was another new experience to not have to worry about being awoken by an attack. This was the first time since Mary died that he hadn't slept with some sort of a weapon under the pillow. Yet, with a protective angel in the house that was more than capable of smiting most of the creatures out there, it was impossible not to feel safe.

For about half an hour he dozed, never fully falling back asleep, only truly waking up when the pressure in his bladder became too much to ignore. Reluctantly, Dean crawled out of bed and went to use the bathroom. He felt sleepier than normal despite having gotten a full night's rest. Even washing his face with cold water didn't get rid of the heavy feeling in his eyelids. He might have even considered going back to bed, but when he stepped out of the bathroom he heard the sound of two familiar voices talking in tones too low for him to make out the individual words.

Curious, he changed his course and instead shuffled out to the living room. Castiel and Gabriel were sitting on the couch, glaring at each other, and the tension in the room was high. While neither angel looked like he was going to attack, there was none of the previous camaraderie between them that Dean had started getting used to. Dean hesitated, wondering if he would be better off going back to sleep after all, but Castiel was already turning to greet him.

"Good morning, Dean."

"G'morning," he mumbled, taking a cautious step into the room. "What's going on?"

"I'm trying to talk your daddy into doing me a favor so that heaven doesn't end up in civil war after all," Gabriel said.

"Gabriel!"

"What? The kid asked, Cassie. It's not like it's a big deal."

Castiel's frown grew deeper. "I told you, I don't even know why you think it will do any good. Balthazar has _never_ listened to me. Just because we were friends when we were younger doesn't really mean anything. That was a century ago." He shook his head, beckoning to Dean with one hand. "If anything, that will probably make him less inclined to listen."

"I don't agree. I've already sent at least four angels to try and talk to him, but every damn time he disappears before they can ever get close. Even I tried to track him and had no luck." Gabriel looked incredibly disgruntled. "He's too good at hiding."

"Yes, and I wonder who he learned that from?" Castiel said wryly. When Dean was close enough, he hooked an arm around Dean's waist and pulled Dean down onto his lap. Dean scowled but went, mostly because it was obvious neither angel was really paying attention to him. Also, Castiel was warm and he hadn't realized just how cool the house was until he had a life size angel acting as a heater.

"That's just unfair," Gabriel muttered, pouting and crossing his arms. "If I'd known that he was going to use it against me, I never would have taught him anything."

"But you _did_ teach him, so surely you must know his tricks."

"You would think so. Cassie, I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't need your help. I know that it is insanely bad timing on my part, and I'm sorry. But all of those weapons that Balthazar stole while Michael was otherwise occupied trying to start the Apocalypse... their absence is making a hell of a lot of our brothers and sisters nervous. I've even heard some of them saying that there's rumors Raphael is trying to find Balthazar first. And what do you think will happen if he actually manages that and Raphael gets his hands on those lovely weapons? It will be Apocalypse 2.0. Balthazar needs to come home to heaven, or at least return the weapons that he took."

Castiel sighed, his breath ruffling the hair on Dean's head. "I hate it when you start sounding reasonable."

"Believe me, no one hates it more than I do. I just don't want to give Raphael a reason to think that there's any way he could cause more trouble than he already has. I know you said that Balthazar doesn't listen to you, but if you could actually talk to him for even a minute that's a lot more than anyone else has been able to do."

"I don't want to leave Dean alone." The grip around Dean's waist tightened to the point where it was a little uncomfortable.

"I told you, I'll stay here until you come back. This was Balthazar's last known location; he should still be there. It won't take you more than a couple of hours, tops. Cas, you can trust me. You have my word that I won't let anything happen to your baby while you're gone."

There was a moment of silence and then Castiel sighed again. "Dean."

"Hmm?" Dean muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. He was following the conversation, sort of, but Castiel's shoulder was also turning out to be a very comfortable place to rest his head.

"Will you be okay if Gabriel stays here with you?"

Dean did open his eyes then, twisting around to look at them both. "I don't need a baby-sitter."

"I'll take that as a yes," said Castiel. He squeezed Dean one last time, then gently shifted him over so that he was sitting on the couch and stood up. "Your word, Gabriel."

Gabriel looked as serious as Dean had ever seen him. "I swear."

With the faint sound of flapping wings, Castiel vanished. Dean looked at the place where he'd been, surprised by the momentary panic that shot through him. He forced the reaction down and turned to Gabriel. "I don't need a baby-sitter," he repeated.

"What, you think your daddy's just going to leave you here by yourself?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. "Fat chance of that happening. And before you bother, there's no way that I'm leaving. If Castiel comes home and finds out that I left you after I swore I wouldn't, he'll hunt me down and kill me. No, first he'll torture me. _Then_ he'll kill me."

"I thought normal angels couldn't kill archangels."

"He'd find a way," Gabriel said darkly. 

"But don't you have important things to do in heaven?"

Gabriel shook his head and reached out to playfully ruffle Dean's hair. "Nothing more important than you, kiddo. You're stuck with me for the day."

"Great," Dean muttered, scowling. It wasn't that he didn't like Gabriel. The archangel could be a douchebag sometimes, and things between him and Sam were still strained enough to make it awkward when they were in the same room. But mostly, it was just that he didn't like the fact that Castiel had left. Castiel was supposed to stay with him. At the same time, he knew from their conversation that this was a potentially world threatening situation, probably the only thing big enough to make Castiel go, and how could he be selfish enough to complain about that?

"Aww, don't pout," Gabriel said. "Come on, I'll make you the world's best chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast."

Dean eyed him. "With whipped cream?"

"Kid after my own heart." Gabriel smirked, jumping and holding a hand out to Dean. Automatically Dean took it, letting himself be pulled up to his feet and led into the kitchen. He was shocked when Gabriel actually started pulling out ingredients from the cupboards, along with a bowl and a whisk.

"You know how to cook?" he asked.

"I did hide on Earth for thousands of years. I wasn't playing at being a pagan god the whole time. Sometimes you have to know how to blend in with the locals," Gabriel answered, skillfully cracking a couple of eggs. "The things I know would probably shock you." He grinned suddenly, adding flour and milk and whisking it all together. "And it just so happens that I have a recipe for pie that will knock your socks off."

"Pie?" Dean straightened, intrigued. "From scratch? What kind?"

"Pecan."

Dean's mouth watered. "Will you make me one?"

"Christ," Gabriel said under his breath. "You Winchesters and your puppy eyes. How about this, if you behave yourself today, then we'll make a pie together this afternoon. I'll even let you have some for supper."

"I'm really not a little kid, you know," Dean pointed out, even though the deal actually sounded pretty good to him. "You can stop trying to treat me like one."

"Baby, you have no idea, do you?" There was an unusually serious look on Gabriel's face when he turned around, the pancake batter left forgotten on the counter. "You _do_ understand how far Castiel plans to take this, don't you? Based on all the research I know you've done and what's happened so far, you must. You're not stupid; I know that you're capable of putting two and two together."

It was hard to meet Gabriel's golden eyes. Dean dropped his gaze and squirmed. "I... I don't need... that."

"That's not your choice anymore. Besides, you're so screwed up you don't have a damn clue what you need. Well, let me spell it out for you just in case some part of you is still confused. Your daddy intends to regress you to the mental age of a toddler."

Hearing it spoken so starkly made Dean grimace. Okay, he'd definitely had his suspicions. It was pretty hard not to draw the right conclusion considering he was wearing a pull-up. But that didn't make it easy to hear out loud. "Why?"

"Because he thinks it will help you. That it might be the _only_ way to help you. And based on what I've seen so far, I'm inclined to agree."

"That's not a reason!" Dean snapped, clenching his fists with sudden anger. "I just - I don't _get_ it. Why does Cas even care? I've taken care of little kids before. I _raised_ Sammy. I know exactly how much trouble they can be. Not to mention it's weird. And I know, Cas is an angel and he doesn't care about that kind of thing... but still. If Cas really wants that in his life, he should go out and find a real little kid who deserves it. I don't mind being his nestling, but this... this _bullshit_ is just unnecessary!"

Gabriel just stared at him for a moment after his outburst, and for the first time in his life Dean thought he'd actually shocked the archangel. He turned away, his heart beating uncomfortably fast, and added in a lower tone, "I'm not worth all the effort he's putting in. And I don't even think I could do... that. So if that's really the only way to help me, then I'm a lost cause, okay?"

"You're even dumber than I thought."

"What?" A little shocked, Dean turned back around just in time to see Gabriel putting a pan on the stovetop and flipping the burner on. Gabriel refused to look at him, like ladling some of the pancake mix onto the pan was so important it required all of his focus. Slowly but surely, little bubbles began to form. He then sprinkled on a heavy dusting of chocolate chips, letting the pancake cook a bit longer before he spoke again.

"I can see into your head, Dean. I can see your soul, and you're wrong. You _are_ worth it." There was a quiet conviction in Gabriel's voice that was hard to argue against. "And frankly, I think you're wrong about whether or not you can age play that young. You're more than halfway there already and you don't even realize it. If you'd stop fighting everything so hard and, for once in your life, just let us help you, you'd be a lot better off."

Dean watched as he flipped the pancake over. He was tired now after his outburst, and he slumped into a chair at the table. "I don't know how to do that."

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, gracing him with a gentle smile. "That's what we're here for, sweetheart."


	16. Chapter 16

The coordinates that Gabriel had given him led Castiel to just inside a fence, which surrounded an enormous mansion somewhere in the middle of Texas. At first glance, the mansion did not look all that different from the other human dwellings that Castiel had seen while travelling with Sam and Dean, and he squashed the initial surge of impatience. He didn't have time to wander around searching for Balthazar; he wanted to talk to his brother, make him see reason if at all possible, and then hurry back to Dean as quickly as he could.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Gabriel to take care of Dean. The sincerity radiating from Gabriel's grace when he swore nothing would happen stayed with Castiel even now, clinging to the edges of his own grace like a fleeting touch. But this was a crucial time in Dean's regression, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the longer he was gone, the more risk there was of something going wrong. It would be far too easy for Dean to decide that he wasn't capable of doing this after all. Hard as it would be for Dean to refuse this, Castiel had seen both Winchester brothers do enough harm to themselves to believe he would do it.

For the time being, though, he had to focus his thoughts on Balthazar. Flying directly into the mansion would set off any sigils Balthazar might have set up to warn him of intruders, so Castiel crossed the large lawn the human way. As he got closer to the mansion, he started to believe that maybe this was where Balthazar dwelled after all. Either that, or a human with very similar tastes. The whole place was opulent and luxurious, not to mention the number of scantily clad men and women strutting around the pool that Castiel could just make out to his left. Sensing another angel's grace in the vicinity, he started to walk that way.

There was no sign of Balthazar amongst the humans - or, not all humans, now that he was closer he could detect some supernatural creatures as well. But they were all alive; not a single one was a fabricated entity designed purely to look good, the way Castiel was expecting. One of them, a woman with blonde hair, smiled slowly at Castiel and winked. When he just stared at her, she grinned and sashayed closer with a very deliberate cock of her hips. She was a human, but that didn't stop her from reaching out and curling her fingers around his tie.

"Hey handsome," she said in a low, sultry voice, pushing her shoulders back. The stance had the effect of pushing her ample breasts, barely contained in the scrap of pink material, right under his nose. "Looking for a good time?"

"Not particularly," Castiel replied. "I'm looking for my brother."

"That doesn't sound like much fun. I could show you how to have fun, you know." Her eyes gleamed. "I always did have a thing for good fathers."

That did it. Castiel's arm flew out, catching her around the neck. She screamed as she was yanked against his body, her hands flying up to pull ineffectually at the place where his elbow curved around her throat. Castiel put just enough strength into the hold to leave her a little short of breath, though he had no real intention of hurting her. There was no doubt in his mind that this was some sort of test, and that this woman had probably been told to proposition him, though why Balthazar had thought he would be tempted by this sort of thing was a mystery. Still, he didn't like the fact that she knew about Dean.

"Balthazar," he growled. "Show yourself before I lost patience."

"When did you lose your sense of humor, Cassie? Oh, wait. That's right. You never had one in the first place."

Castiel twisted, unsurprised to see his brother standing about five feet behind him. Balthazar's arms were crossed and he was pouting, though he did not seem inclined to attack. The human woman in Castiel's hold whimpered when she caught sight of him, and Balthazar's eyes dropped to her.

"Let her go."

"I should hold her hostage until you give back the weapons you stole," Castiel shot back, but he released the woman anyway. She had nothing to do with this, and he had not come here with the intention of frightening her or anyone else. He watched as she rushed back to the safety of the growing crowd behind them before he turned back to Balthazar.

"I'm not surprised that's why you're here, but I am surprised that they sent you, of all the angels, to tell me to behave. Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?" Balthazar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not here to tell you to behave. I just want the weapons back. Then you can do whatever you want."

"What if I want to keep the weapons? I'll have you know it was a lot of bloody effort to take them in the first place. The only time Virgil ever leaves his post is to go suck up to Raphael. Do you know how long I had to stand around listening to him sing about Raphael's virtues before he finally left?" Balthazar grimaced and held his hand up. A wine glass appeared in his hand and he drank deeply with a theatrical shudder. "It was traumatizing. I consider those weapons my reward for my patience."

"Well, Raphael considers those weapons a way to restart the Apocalypse," Castiel answered. "Gabriel isn't the only one who has been looking for you. What do you think will happen if Raphael finds you first? You know as well as I do that you're not strong enough to kill an archangel. He'll smite you, take the weapons, and launch an attack against Gabriel. And if he wins, he'll open up the cage again."

Balthazar shrugged. "I'll be dead by then, so I won't care."

"Balthazar!"

"Look, Cas. Raphael is a coward. He backed down the instant you and Gabriel went to heaven. I have a hard time believing he cares enough to put that much effort into restarting the Apocalypse."

"You've been on Earth, cut off from heaven, but it's the truth. Raphael's loyalty to Michael runs deep." Castiel grimaced as he spoke. It was the same sort of loyalty that all of them were supposed to have in regards to heaven and their Father's plan, and a little part of him felt wrong for speaking against it. Yet time spent with the Winchesters had taught Castiel that that kind of blind loyalty could be dangerous.

But that was not something he had the time to contemplate now. "Michael wanted the Apocalypse to happen, which means Raphael is dedicated to freeing him from the cage so he can wreak havoc. Right now, he and Gabriel are evenly matched and Raphael won't challenge him. But if he gets his hands on those weapons..." Castiel let his voice trail off meaningfully. There were some weapons of heaven that could harm, if not kill, even an archangel in the right hands. 

There was a hard look in Balthazar's eyes. "Much as I'd like to believe you're here because of heaven, I expect the real reason is because of your little nestling. Scared that Michael might come calling for him after all?"

Castiel tensed, his angel blade slipping into his hand. "The Apocalypse will destroy the world as we know it," he growled, forcing himself to keep his temper under check. "And I know _you_ , Balthazar. You left heaven because you wanted to live in the human world. You wanted a life of... indulgences." He cast a pointed glance around at their audience. "Are you expecting me to believe that you would be content with throwing that away? Or do you expect that one of those weapons would be enough to stop Raphael if he came looking?"

Judging by Balthazar's slight wince, Castiel's guess was correct. Castiel took a step forward, keeping his angel blade ready but holding his free hand out imploringly. He didn't want to fight with his brother. At one time, he and Balthazar had been very close. They'd spent years together, watching over the Earth or fighting against the demons. He just hadn't understood Balthazar's fascination with the Earth until he went to hell and rescued one particular human.

"You are right," Castiel added. "Part of the reason I'm here is because of Dean. He is my nestling, but I have always felt the urge to protect him no matter what the cost. But you are my brother. I would grieve for you, if you were gone."

"That's a very human sentiment," Balthazar said softly, looking troubled.

Castiel met his gaze. "Is that bad?"

For a long time, Balthazar was quiet. He sipped at his wine glass again, emptying and refilling it in the blink of an eye several times. Long after the time when a human would've collapsed on the ground, drunk, he finally sighed. "You always did have an annoying way of making too much bloody sense."

Relieved that Balthazar didn't seem interested in fighting, Castiel sheathed his blade. "Give me the weapons. I will return them to Gabriel, and he will take them to heaven where they belong. They will remain out of Raphael's reach; he won't dare go against Gabriel without the power to back it up. None of us will have to worry about the Apocalypse and the rest of our brothers and sisters will leave you in peace."

"Now that I find hard to believe. There's been an endless parade of angels outside my door for the past month."

"Maybe if you'd actually talked to one of them, they would have gone away sooner."

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Earth has been good for you, Cassie," he observed, sounding approving. "Care to join me for a drink before I allow you to take my hard earned work away?"

Though his instinct was to rush back to Dean as quickly as possible, Castiel found himself seated in a plush chair with a glass of expensive whiskey in his hand. Balthazar reclined across from him with a glass of champagne. The alcohol was good, sharp with a burn, though it didn't make Castiel feel anything now that he was no longer in danger of falling. He licked his lips slowly, tasting the remnants of the liquor, and noticed Balthazar watching him with an indecipherable expression and roiling grace.

Neither of them spoke as the hours passed. Occasionally Balthazar would reach out tentatively, brushing strands of Castiel's grace with his own. Castiel always responded to the touch, but he did not offer to let their grace come together the way he once would have. He was too mindful of the fact that he was nursing Dean, and, jealously, wanted only his grace to be a part of that. Whether Balthazar understood or not, he made no comment. But he didn't try to push for more, either.

"Gabriel needs angels he can trust," Castiel said quietly, when the sun was kissing the horizon. "The two of you were close once. Perhaps you should rethink this life of seclusion."

"I don't want to be a pawn."

"And Gabriel is the one angel who would never make you one."

"You speak so highly of him now. I thought you hated all of the archangels."

"Hate is a strong word," Castiel replied, smiling faintly as he finished the last of his whiskey and stood. He could never accurately explain to any angel or human what had transpired between him and Gabriel during those late nights towards the end of the Apocalypse, when Dean was crying from nightmares and Sam was too scared to sleep for fear he'd see Lucifer. The desire to protect even when the odds were against you was a bond that ran too deep, smoothing over past transgressions and paving the way for something unbreakable.

"And now you sound like him, too," Balthazar grumbled, though there was no heat behind the words. Holding his hands up, he summoned what looked like a fragment of grace. In reality, Castiel could feel the power of heaven emanating from the ball of white light. He took it carefully.

"Thank you."

"Be careful, Cas," Balthazar said.

"I will. Think about what I said." Castiel spread his wings, flying to three different locations to confuse anyone who might be following him before he landed on the steps of the cabin, feeling a deep sense of relief that he was finally home. He opened the door quickly and froze.

Dean was passed out on the couch, still wearing the pajamas he'd been dressed in earlier. He was lying on his back, head tipped to the side to face Castiel. His shirt was rucked up to show his tummy, which was noticeably distended over the top of his pajama bottoms. His face was smeared in the remains of a sticky substance and crumbs, and he was still clutching a plate containing a half eaten piece of pecan pie in one equally sticky hand. There was a fork on the floor in front of the couch.

"Hey bro," Gabriel said, and Castiel turned to look at him in disbelief. Gabriel had an empty pie plate on his lap, but the sugar didn't seem to have done him much good. He looked _exhausted_. And frazzled. 

"What happened?" Castiel asked, torn between amusement and exasperation. 

Gabriel flicked a finger at Dean and shook his head. "And I didn't even have to change a diaper or give him a bottle yet. You're insane for doing this."

Castiel laughed. He couldn't help it. He stepped forward, letting the door close and lock behind him, and carefully handed the weapons over to Gabriel, who rose to take them. "It's not that bad. You're just not used to dealing with this Winchester in particular."

"He ate two pies," Gabriel said, with the sort of numb horror of someone who has seen something they can't un-see.

" _Two pies_? Honestly, Gabriel!" Castiel gently tugged the plate out of Dean's hand, hoping to get him to bed without Dean waking up. Unfortunately, Dean woke immediately at the loss of his pie, his face screwing up into what - had it been anyone else - Castiel would've said was the start of tears. He set the plate aside and hefted a squirming, half asleep Dean into his arms.

"He was hungry!" 

"You're lucky he didn't make himself sick," Castiel scolded him, though inwardly he was relieved and he could tell that Gabriel knew it. He firmly patted Dean's back, pleased when the hunter belched against his shoulder and then subsided with an embarrassed, sleepy whimper. If a tummy ache and a fussy baby was the worst of Gabriel's baby-sitting exploits, then Castiel considered them all lucky.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) I have been waiting for this chapter and the next chapter since the beginning, and -

Even though Dean's stomach ached well into the next afternoon, he refused to feel regret for having eaten two pecan pies in one sitting. Just thinking about the taste of the soft, flaky crust, paired with the thick, sweet syrup and crunchy pecans, had his mouth watering. Gabriel was an asshole sometimes, but that didn't change the fact that the archangel was one hell of a baker. He hadn't been kidding when he told Dean that sometimes he liked to do things the human way; Dean would cherish the memory of one of heaven's most powerful angels covered in flour and wearing an apron as he expertly rolled out pie crusts for the rest of his life. 

He stared at the ceiling, licking his lips, and wondered if Castiel would notice if he made a move towards the remaining two pies still in the kitchen. Probably. His stomach growled at the thought, but not in the good way. More in the 'eat another piece of pie right now and you're going to be spending the rest of the night on the toilet groaning in pain' kind of way. He pouted and rolled onto his side, listening to the sounds of Castiel rattling around in the kitchen - presumably making something for a late lunch, because while Dean had gotten away with refusing breakfast he doubted he'd be so lucky with lunch.

The events of last night were mostly a blur. He remembered falling asleep in the middle of chewing a bite of pie, and that should have been the end of it. But it wasn't. He also remembered Castiel picking him up and then a firm hand thumping his back until he burped, just like a baby. Only some hasty swallowing had saved him from spitting up all over the back of Castiel's shirt, because okay, maybe he had eaten a bit too much pie. And then Castiel had carried him into the bedroom and stripped him naked before dressing him in a fresh pull-up and pajamas, all the while conversing with Gabriel in low tones about another angel. 

It was humiliating to think about in the bright light of day. But it hadn't felt that way last night. Back then, more than three quarters of the way asleep and clinging to consciousness by a thread, he'd felt safe. Protected. Cared for. The affection in Castiel's every touch was something that couldn't be faked. He'd treated Dean exactly the way he would an overtired baby or a toddler, carrying him to and then getting him ready for bed, and Dean wasn't sure what disturbed him more: that he had enjoyed it so much at the time, or that there was a growing part of him that desperately wanted it to happen again.

His conversation with Gabriel had been buzzing through his mind all day yesterday, and it was the first thing he'd thought about when he woke up that morning. Even now, it hung heavily in the back of his head. Gabriel made it sound so _easy_ , like Dean should just forget about the past and the kind of person he was and throw himself headfirst into this whole experience. But even if that was what Castiel wanted, he didn't know how to do that. He didn't know how to stop the little voice in the back of his head that told him he didn't deserve this. He didn't know how to let down the walls that had kept him safe for so many years, or even if he really wanted to.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his palms into his eyes with a heavy sigh. He felt so tired and so heavy, even though he'd had plenty of sleep last night. He just wanted to put his head down and stop thinking for a while. Better yet, he just wanted to shut his whole body off so that he didn't have to feel, either. His eyes kept itching and there was a familiar pressure behind his eyes that kept getting worse over the stupidest things, like when he'd stubbed his toe walking into the bathroom.

The desire to cling to Castiel until he felt better - he refused to let himself even _think_ the word cry - was getting stronger by the hour, but so was the conflicting desire to just run in the opposite direction before it was too late to turn back. And when he added in the desire to please Castiel, Sam, Bobby and Gabriel by not screwing up, the need to become a better hunter, and the fear of depending on Castiel too much...

"Dean?"

The low, brisk voice cut straight through the pressure building in his head and chest. Dean took a deep breath, belatedly realizing that his throat was aching in a telltale way and his eyes were hot. He took a few seconds to get himself back under control, resolutely pushing all of those thoughts to the back of his head where they belonged, before he let his hands drop from his face. 

Castiel was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching him, but all he said was, "Lunch is ready. Come on."

"I'm not hungry," Dean mumbled, but he rolled off the couch and walked into the kitchen anyway. At least Castiel had prepared a light lunch of tomato soup, something that wouldn't leave him feeling even more stuffed than he already did. He sat down in front of his bowl, noticing that Castiel also had a bowl of soup. The two of them ate in silence. It was good, but Dean only ate about half the bowl before he pushed the rest away. For once, he wasn't interested in eating.

"How about a walk?" Castiel suggested, standing up and collecting the bowls. "That might make you feel better."

"I'm fine." He didn't mean for it to come out as cranky as it did. Castiel raised an eyebrow at him as he set the bowls in the sink and Dean scowled, refusing to apologize. As far as he was concerned, it was Castiel's fault that he was feeling so out of sorts. It had to be the grace that was screwing him up so badly. He felt like he couldn't get a solid handle on anything, like everything he normally kept so contained was sliding between his fingers like sand, and it was terrifying. 

"A walk it is," Castiel said decisively. "Make sure you put some sunscreen on so you don't get sunburned."

"Don't need sunscreen," Dean grumbled, though he obeyed because - annoyingly enough - Castiel had a point. He'd narrowly escaped dealing with the pain and discomfort of a sunburn last time, and he had no idea whether or not Castiel would be so gracious if it happened again. He went into the living room and found the sunscreen that Gabriel had brought with him yesterday. It was SPF 75, which seemed a little high, but it was all he had. He squeezed some out and rubbed it on his legs and arms, then on his face and ears. The coconut scent was both familiar and new, reminding him of the last time his mother had done this.

She'd been gentle but brisk, the practiced movements of someone who had put sunscreen on a thousand times, even while Dean had squirmed and whined about having to wait during the extra step. Mary had always made sure that she got every inch of skin covered. He hadn't understood why until the following summer after she died, when he got a bad sunburn after spending the afternoon in a park with Sam and John. He also remembered how lost John had been, like he didn't know how to handle a five-year-old that was in pain.

A cold hand touched the back of Dean's neck, startling him out of his daze. Castiel was standing right behind him, having gotten close enough to take some of the sunscreen to rub on Dean's neck without his notice. Even though it was the first time he'd done it, he moved exactly like Mary had. It was almost like having his mother standing behind him, definitely like having a parent there, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, stiff and tense until Castiel's fingers stopped. Even then he didn't take his hand away, letting his fingers linger there, five little points of warm pressure.

"Are you sure you're okay, baby?" Castiel asked, and his voice was very soft.

A sob swelled in his throat embarrassingly fast, and the desire to turn and throw himself into Castiel's arms was, for a split second, overwhelming. In that second of time, he could see it: what it would be like to have a daddy instead of a father. Someone who cared for you and loved you, who made you the most important thing in their world, who never made you feel bad or stupid for what you wanted or needed. And he wanted that _so much_ that no words would have been enough to articulate his need.

But just as quickly as those feelings surged through him, terror cooled their fire and allowed him to take a hasty step forward out of reach. "I'm fine," he rasped, not looking back as he knelt to put his sneakers on. He pretended that it took all of his attention to tie the laces, so that by the time he stood up again he felt marginally more composed.

Castiel didn't push, though there was no doubt in Dean's mind that the angel probably knew exactly how much he was struggling. He let Dean lead the way outside and down the steps, across the grass and into the trees. It was immediately cooler there, protected from the worst of the sun. Dean felt better as soon as he was outside, away from the confines of the cabin. As awesome as it was to have a place to call home, it was also really weird and sometimes he wasn't sure he liked it as much as he thought he would.

He set a deliberately brisk pace that kept him a few steps ahead of Castiel, though he knew Castiel could've easily caught up if he'd wanted to. It was quiet in the forest, with only the sound of the wind in the trees and their footsteps on the ground to break the silence. Dean tipped his head back as he walked through a patch of sunlight, looking up at the sky just in time to see several birds flying overhead in a V-formation.

"Hey, Cas," he said meaningfully, the word tasting weird, "look." And he pointed.

"It's Daddy, Dean," said Castiel, even as he tilted his head back to follow Dean's gaze, and the hair on the back of Dean's neck prickled. He'd heard that about twenty times by now, but it never ceased to hit hard. And right then, it let him breathless for reasons he couldn't - wouldn't identify. _Daddy_. His tongue felt swollen.

Looking away, towards the ground, he mumbled thoughtlessly, "S'weird."

"What is?"

Dean was going to say that it was weird that there were no other animals around, after their previous walk to the lake during which they'd seen and heard all kinds of squirrels, chipmunks, birds and even a couple of foxes, or at least he would have if he'd been capable of making his mouth cooperate. He was afraid that if he said anything else, it was going to end up being something that would tip him over the breaking point.

In the end it didn't matter, because it wasn't his choice. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something dark. Castiel was already spinning around, moving with lightening fast reflexes to get in front of Dean, and Dean heard the sound of his grunt as they collided. Someone - a woman with black eyes - laughed as Castiel was driven to the ground, bloody and leaking lines of white, the angel blade falling from his hand. The black-eyed man beside her grabbed the blade and plunged it deep into Castiel's stomach in one smooth move. Castiel screamed, his body spasming.

The world felt like it was falling away from Dean as the woman looked up at him and smirked, and he was barely aware of screaming himself. 

" _Daddy_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B) Don't kill me. It was necessary.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: all the FEELS

Gabriel was reclining on a chair and watching Balthazar pretend to sip at a glass of expensive wine when he felt the disturbance in the wards that he and Castiel had built around the nest. He sat up, interrupting Balthazar mid-sentence, and dropped his own glass when a ripple of _agony_ flooded through where his grace meshed with Castiel's. It was so strong that, for a split second, it left him reeling.

As soon as he recovered, Gabriel spread his wings. He couldn't fly to where Castiel's grace was until he was inside of the wards, because the sigils had been purposefully drawn to hide that from the outside, but he had a fix on the nest and that's where he flew. He materialized at the nest for a blink of time and then instantly flew on to where he sensed Castiel and Dean, only vaguely aware of Balthazar following him.

It only took Gabriel a moment to grasp what was happening when he arrived. Castiel was lying on the ground, covered in blood and grace. One demon was standing over him holding an angel blade. The other was standing in front of Dean, who had a bruise on his right cheek and a terrified look on his face. He was crouched down with one hand out-stretched like he might come up swinging. The demon was laughing at him, taunting him, saying something about his daddy - Gabriel didn't wait to hear the specifics.

Cold rage burning through him, he launched himself forward and stabbed the demon through its throat with his angel blade. Brilliant white light erupted and the demon spasmed, burning out. He didn't wait for the corpse to hit the ground, instead spinning to face the one that had been threatening Castiel. But Balthazar was already there, grimly stabbing the demon in the belly. More grace flared and the demon hit the ground, eyes burnt out. Castiel's angel blade hit the ground and rolled, coming to a stop at Dean's feet. Dean looked down at it blankly before he automatically reached down to pick the weapon up.

"Dean," Gabriel said, taking a quick step forward. "Honey, are you okay?"

He didn't get an answer. Dean didn't even look at him. He just kept staring at the angel blade. Gabriel reached out and gently touched his shoulder, wincing when Dean flinched at the touch. Something had gone seriously wrong here. He didn't need to brush Dean's mind to know that the little boy had been seriously traumatized by what happened. Not only had Castiel been stabbed, Dean hadn't reacted the way a hunter would. If Gabriel and Balthazar hadn't come, who knew what would have happened? 

But as much as he wanted to talk to Dean about it, Castiel needed to be seen to first.

"Balthazar, bring Cas back to the nest," he ordered without looking around, spreading his wings again. A second later they had touched down in the nest, and Balthazar arrived with Castiel in his arms. Gabriel directed Dean to sit down on the couch and then left him there, still holding the angel blade, while he went in to attend to Castiel. He sent Balthazar out to watch over the boy and then glanced over his brother.

Castiel looked _awful_. He'd been stabbed with his own blade, for one thing, and there were other deep cuts along his torso that suggested the demons might have had another angel blade in their possession. Gabriel ground his teeth, wishing that the two creatures were still alive just so that he could smite them again. There was very little he could do for Castiel in this state. Time and Castiel's grace would eventually heal the damage that had been done to him. All Gabriel could do was bandage his vessel - because having to replenish blood to keep the vessel alive would only slow the process - and try to boost Castiel's fading grace with his own.

"Boy, little bro, you've really done it this time," he muttered, banishing Castiel's clothing. Another twitch of his fingers made bandages appear on the nightstand. Gabriel picked up a roll, surveying Castiel's naked vessel. The damage was more extensive than he'd hoped. It was unlike Castiel to have been taken so off guard, and he wondered if the demons had gone after Dean first. It was the most likely explanation.

It took him a long time to bandage all of the wounds on the vessel. Castiel remained unconscious during the bandaging; the only sign that he was still alive was the way his forehead wrinkled from pain. When he was finished, Gabriel perched on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on his brother's forehead. Right away he could tell that Castiel's grace was not doing so well. Large pieces had been torn in it when he was stabbed, and the grace was struggling to knit itself back together. The process was tedious and would take hours, if not days, especially since Castiel was already a little weaker from nurturing Dean.

With a gentle touch, he pushed a little grace into his brother so that Castiel wouldn't have to struggle so hard on his own. Even though Gabriel didn't need to breathe, he still found himself holding his breath as he waited to see whether or not Castiel would accept the help. If he didn't, it wouldn't do him any harm. It just meant that Gabriel would be truly useless. But if he did, then Castiel's grace would be able to replenish and heal that much more quickly. And it would mean that Castiel trusted him all the way down to his core, in a way that Gabriel had nearly given up on hoping for after he fled heaven so many centuries ago.

He only relaxed when he felt Castiel's barriers giving away, the battered grace reaching for Gabriel eagerly. He gave what he could, only easing back when he knew that he was at risk of crossing that thin line where his help would become a hindrance. Castiel gave a quiet moan of protest and Gabriel shushed him, removing his hand from Castiel's forehead and standing. As much as he wanted to stay here watching over Castiel, he knew that Castiel's first thought would always be of Dean. In his absence, it was up to Gabriel. It was a sobering thought and for a split second, he actually entertained the thought of breaking that trust, taking the easy way out and just making a run for it.

But then he got to the door to the room and walked down the hall. Unseen, though Balthazar knew he was there, Gabriel looked at Dean Winchester and felt his own tired grace tremble with sympathy, and suddenly he knew what humans meant when they said their hearts were breaking. Because Dean was still sitting on the couch where he'd been left. He hadn't moved an inch. He was still staring down at Castiel's bloody blade, and his face was eerily blank except for his eyes. His eyes, brimming with unshed tears, were like a bomb just waiting to go off.

Briefly, Gabriel risked a brush against Dean's mind. He rocked backwards at the deluge of self loathing and terror, mingled with pure confusion and anguish and the raw edge of _fear_ , but it was nothing compared to what happened next. Apparently the feel of unfamiliar grace was too much. Gabriel really should have known better. In terms of humans, Dean was already sensitive to angels. As a nestling, that effect was multiplied by about a hundred. The feel of Gabriel's grace was the last straw, the thing that broke him.

Dean started to cry.

It was very quiet at first, almost inaudible, but by the time Gabriel stepped around the corner, Dean was sobbing loudly. Balthazar looked torn between shock and revulsion, and in any other situation Gabriel would have been amused. As it was, he sent Balthazar an exasperated look for his lack of a reaction and hurried over to Dean. Another quick brush of mind and grace revealed that Dean was so emotionally overwrought after everything, and that the grace he'd consumed was pushing his emotions so close to the surface, that he just couldn't deal. He was literally breaking down right there in the living room, with his daddy unconscious in the next room.

"Um," Balthazar said hesitantly, which was completely at odds with how he normally presented himself. "Cassie's nestling is leaking."

"He's not a nestling, he's a hatchling," Gabriel snapped, running a hand through Dean's hair. At the touch, Dean cried louder, and Gabriel had to raise his voice to be heard as he added, "and his daddy just got skewered right in front of him. Don't be even more of a dick than you already are, Balthazar. Have a little compassion. C'mere, honey."

He scooped Dean up easily, holding him the way that Castiel did. Dean fought against him for a moment, but he was no match for Gabriel's strength and eventually he slumped against him. Hot tears dampened Gabriel's shoulder as he cried. Gabriel shushed him as best he could and began to slowly walk around the living room, hoping that the movement would calm Dean down. He even tried bouncing Dean a little as he walked. It didn't work. If anything, Dean's wails only picked up in volume until Gabriel was grateful for the sigils that meant no sound would escape the wards. The last thing they needed was human law enforcement showing up because of a child screaming.

He kept walking. Around and around. Balthazar sank down onto the couch, slowly moving from awkward and uncertain as to how to handle the situation to annoyance mixed with pity. Which was of no help whatsoever, of course, but at least he didn't leave Gabriel to deal with the situation alone. Though the fact that Gabriel would've hunted him down after the fact probably had something to do with that. Either way, it was comforting to know that Gabriel wasn't the only one was becoming extremely stressed out over a baby.

"Your daddy's gonna be fine, baby boy," he cooed to Dean a couple of hours later, feeling weary. Dean just wouldn't _stop_. It wasn't surprising considering that he had been suppressing several years worth of tears, but it was worrying. "C'mon, it's okay. It's okay, I promise."

"Can't you make it stop?" Balthazar asked, not for the first time.

"I'm trying, okay?" Gabriel hissed at him, wondering how the hell human parents put up with this sort of thing. Cupping the back of Dean's head, he gently bounced him again in the hopes that maybe this time, it would work. It didn't, but he did feel a warm wetness leaking between the two of them.

"Did he just -"

"Shut up," Gabriel barked. If Dean was even a little aware right now, he would be mortified that he had just pissed himself. Balthazar talking about it would not help. He turned his back and snapped his fingers, taking the easy way out and using grace to remove the soiled pull-up that hadn't been enough to contain the pee. Maybe it was cheating to just mojo a diaper onto Dean, but right then he didn't care.

"Don't you think -"

"What I think is that you should find a way to be helpful."

"Just calm him down."

"You know it's dangerous to interfere with the bond, and this isn't working. Find something to distract him."

"Like what?"

"Anything!" Gabriel said, not without a little desperation, because surely Dean couldn't cry for much longer? Even though he showed no signs of stopping anytime soon...

Balthazar got up and went into the kitchen, then came back out and wandered down the hall. Gabriel couldn't hear anything over the sound of Dean's sobs. For all he knew, Balthazar had taken the opportunity to run for it. He waited impatiently for a couple of minutes before he followed and ended up meeting Balthazar in the hallway. The other angel was holding two things: a fat stuffed bee that radiated with Castiel's grace, and a bright green pacifier.

Gabriel looked at it. Balthazar shrugged.

"At least it will make him be quiet."

Without a word, Gabriel grabbed the pacifier from him and pressed it into Dean's mouth. Dean resisted at first, whimpering in confusion, and then all of a sudden it was like his baby brain clicked in and he latched on. He started sucking furiously, still making soft whines in the back of his throat while tears rolled down his cheeks, but at least the desperate sobbing had stopped. It was a step in the right direction.

"Thank Father," Balthazar muttered, shoving the bee against Dean's chest until Dean had no choice but to take it. When he felt the warm grace imbuing the stuffed animal, Dean snuffled and pressed his face into the soft fur. His breath hitched audibly, but the whining stopped. 

The tears, silent now, continued.

"There you go, sweetheart, there's a boy," Gabriel murmured, so relieved that his knees actually felt a little weak. He rubbed Dean's back some more and kept whispering to him, hoping that the comfort and exhaustion might eventually be enough to make Dean fall asleep. Otherwise, it was going to be one hell of a long night.


	19. Chapter 19

It was unusual for Castiel to feel pain, but he had become familiar enough with the concept to know that's what brought him out of his sleep. His abdomen was throbbing, and it took him less than a second to remember why. Dean. The demons. Immediately his eyes opened and he tried to sit up, heedless of the fact that it made his stomach burn like he'd been set on fire. Before he could get all the way up, though, familiar hands grabbed his shoulders and firmly pushed him back down. Disconcertingly, Castiel realized that he didn't have the strength to fight. He felt as weak now as he had during the Apocalypse, when he was falling.

"Relax, little bro," Gabriel whispered, so close that his lips brushed against Castiel's ear. "It's fine. I felt it when you were attacked and I came right away. Balthazar and I smited the demons and Dean wasn't hurt. He's sleeping right next to you."

Castiel instantly turned his head, opening eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Gabriel wasn't lying. Dean was sharing the king sized bed, his head resting on a pillow right beside Castiel's. But there was something different about his little boy. He was resting on top of the covers, which made it easy for Castiel to see that Dean was only dressed in a diaper and a t-shirt patterned with rainbow fish. He was also sucking on a green pacifier and clutching his bee with one hand. The other hand was wrapped around Castiel's wrist. His face was stained with tears, and even as Castiel watched, Dean stirred restlessly and whimpered. A couple of tears slid down his face.

Gabriel sighed, letting his hands slide off of Castiel's shoulders. "He's been doing that ever since I got him to fall asleep," he said mournfully, reaching over to wipe the tears away. "And let me tell you, Cassie, I do _not_ envy you. I don't think you understand what you've gotten yourself into. Your kiddo is a job and a half, and he's got a set of lungs that make even my ears ring."

"What happened?" Castiel demanded, turning to frown at his brother. He'd been expecting the progress from pull-ups to diapers would take months, maybe even years, as it would require getting Dean relaxed enough to use them, never mind okay with being changed. Not to mention the pacifier, which he was pretty sure he had hidden away securely so that Dean wouldn't accidentally stumble across it while exploring the nest.

"I told you. After we killed the demons, we brought you guys back here. I patched up your wounds as best I could, but they stabbed you with your own blade and it's been a pretty slow healing process. It'll still be a couple of days before you're back to full strength, and longer still before your grace is back to normal." Gabriel nodded towards Castiel's midsection, and Castiel managed to prop himself up enough to look. He was wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, revealing the bandages on his belly. 

He lightly brushed his fingers across the bandages, grimacing when even that amount of pressure ached. "But what happened with Dean?"

"I... Fuck, I don't know. He just... _broke_. I don't know if it was seeing you get skewered right in front of him, or the fact that he didn't react the way a hunter would when the demons showed up, or the grace you've been giving him, or maybe he just repressed so much shit that it finally caught up with him... Maybe a combination of all of the above." Gabriel shrugged helplessly, looking a little wild around the eyes. "I didn't even know human babies could cry that long or that loud, Cassie. It took me hours to calm him down. It wasn't until Balthazar gave him the bee that he finally fell asleep, and even then I'm pretty sure it's only because he was so exhausted his body gave out on him."

"Oh, Dean." Castiel looked down at his little boy, guilt washing over him. He should have been there for a breakdown of that size. Dean had probably been so overwhelmed, so _confused_. And while he was friendly with Gabriel, Castiel was his daddy. It was his responsibility to be there to guide Dean through this and he hadn't been.

"Don't look like that. You're giving Sammy a run for his money with those puppy dog eyes," Gabriel said, sounding exasperated. He rubbed his head as though it pained him. "Look, the reason he's in a diaper is because he wet himself while I was trying to calm him down. I don't even know if he realized it was happening. It certainly didn't stop him crying any. A diaper seemed like the best idea, since I didn't know if it would happen again. I didn't want a second dousing in human pee. And the pacifier was Balthazar's idea, though I think that was more to make Dean stop screaming than anything..."

"Thank you for looking after him, Gabriel. It couldn't have been easy."

"It was the one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, and that includes going up against Lucifer," Gabriel said flatly. "When Dean's wings start growing in, do me a favor and don't contact me for about three weeks until the worst is over."

Castiel hid a smile as he gently uncurled Dean's fingers from around his wrist. Dean whimpered and grabbed a fistful of Castiel's pant leg instead. "Don't cry, little one," Castiel whispered, brushing a few strands of hair out of Dean's face. "It's okay. Daddy and Uncle Gabe are here with you."

Dean twitched under the touch, his eyes fluttering. Slowly, his eyes opened to half mast and he looked up at the two angels like he wasn't sure what was going on. His expression was so fuzzy that Castiel knew he was still more than half asleep, and miles beneath the surface beside. It was a little preview of what Dean probably would be like as a baby, soft and sweet and warm, but it wasn't worth the trauma he'd been through.

He stroked Dean's hair and took the risk of using a little bit of his grace to soothe Dean's soul, disturbed to find that Dean's soul was even more broken now than it had been before. But a bit more probing revealed that the comfort Gabriel had given Dean while he cried had gone a long way towards healing some of older fractures that had been there since Mary Winchester died. Possibly because Dean had been holding in some of those tears for that long.

At the touch of the familiar grace, Dean mewled behind his pacifier, sounding like a frightened kitten, and squirmed closer, limbs flopping about like he wasn't really sure how to use them anymore. Castiel willingly drew Dean into his lap, even though the weight against his stomach hurt. He wrapped his arms around Dean and pressed a kiss against the side of Dean's head, unsurprised when Dean clung to him.

"I'm right here," Castiel murmured to him, rubbing Dean's back. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I don't think he understands you, Cas," Gabriel said.

"No, I know he doesn't. His mind is hiding right now. I don't think he's ready to deal with what happened," Castiel said, resting his head on top of Dean's hair. It was so soft under his cheek. 

Gabriel looked uncomfortable. "The thing that pushed him over... I touched him with my grace. Did I... break your kid?"

"No, Gabriel," Castiel said as patiently as possible, even though he wanted to laugh. For all the time he'd spent on Earth, and considering how many times he had played tricks on them, there were times when Gabriel seemed to know very little about humans, and it was oddly endearing. "It probably wasn't your best idea, but we knew this was a long time coming. Eventually Dean would have had a breakdown. No human is capable of continuing under that kind of burden."

"Yeah, but now he's out for the count. He's _sucking on a pacifier_."

There was a shade of hysteria to Gabriel's voice, and Castiel looked up at his brother. "Why don't you go get Dean some grace?" he suggested, suspecting that Gabriel was in need of a few minutes to himself. And sure enough, even before the words were fully out of his mouth, Gabriel was gone.

Because he could sense that Gabriel was still inside the nest, Castiel didn't bother calling out to him to make sure that he was okay. Instead, he glanced back down at Dean and saw that Gabriel was right. Dean's eyes were shut, but his jaw moved steadily as he slowly sucked on the pacifier. It was adorable, and it was everything that Castiel wanted, but he would've enjoyed the moment a lot more if he knew that Dean wanted it, too. 

Right now, it was like Dean had retreated into his head and had left his body to be cared for by outside sources. It was a huge sign of trust, but it was also a little worrying. There would be no more compartmentalizing of Dean's emotions, not while he was consuming grace, and that was pretty much the only coping method that Dean knew. Well, that, sex and alcohol, none of which was available to him anymore. 

"It's gonna be a rough couple of days for you, baby boy," Castiel said to himself, sighing and shaking his head. Nothing was ever easy with a Winchester around, was it? He rubbed Dean's back a little more, wondering if Dean would ever be okay with crying when the mood struck him or expressing sadness and anger with his words instead of locking it all down. 

This was all a step in the right direction, technically, because at least now Dean would understand that they would never mock him. He just had to hope that Dean wouldn't be too upset when he was finally willing to come back to them.

Gabriel came back carrying a sippy cup a few minutes later. Castiel took it from him and pulled the pacifier out of Dean's mouth. Dean started to whine, eyes welling up with tears, until Castiel put the spout of the cup to his lips. It took him a few seconds to start swallowing, and a little juice ran from the corner of his mouth down his chin, but eventually he caught on and started to drink, if somewhat sloppily.

"Maybe I should've just used a bottle," Gabriel said, hands on his hips.

"If he's not back to normal by tomorrow, then maybe," Castiel replied. Though if Dean's state of hiding lasted much longer than that, more drastic measures would have to be taken. He knew he could coax Dean out with his grace, but it would set him back several days in terms of healing. He hoped Dean would come back to them on his own.

After Dean was finished drinking, Castiel gently patted his back several times until Dean burped. Gabriel took the empty cup as Castiel offered the pacifier back to Dean, who took it surprisingly quickly. He curled up as best he could on Castiel's lap and hid his face against his bee, one arm still wrapped possessively around Castiel's waist. Gabriel looked at the two of them and made a face as he put a hand on Dean's leg.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's actually pretty cute."

"You could get one of your own, if you wanted," Castiel pointed out.

Gabriel just shook his head. "I think yours is more than enough trouble for both of us," he said, and Castiel had to admit that was definitely true.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update every Friday, but sometimes I get sick or I'm busy. If you need to know what's going on, follow my [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/) because I usually post something there if I'm not going to update.

The by now familiar feeling of grace and an equally familiar voice singing softly were the first sensations that Dean really recognized. It took a considerable amount of effort to force his eyes to open, and he realized that he was sitting on the floor of the kitchen in the nest. Or rather, he was sitting propped up on enough blankets and pillows that he could barely feel the hardness of the floor under him, his bee tucked in close by his side,. Castiel was standing at the counter, busy with something that Dean couldn't see, and the sound of Castiel's voice filled the kitchen, rising and falling on a melody of words that Dean's human brain couldn't understand.

He felt as exhausted as he had when he first dug himself out of his grave, like he could've slept for another hundred years. Memories of the past few days swept over him in a bunch of disjointed, confusing flashes, but there was no way he had the cognizance to make sense of it all right now. He clumsily kicked out a foot, hitting one of the pillows that had been supporting his legs. The pillow tumbled off the stack and skidded across the floor into the back of Castiel's foot. The angel turned around immediately, though not without a grimace of pain, one hand moving to splay protectively across his stomach.

Right where he'd been stabbed.

As the memory of that awful moment crashed into him, Dean felt his breath hitch. The room went a little blurry. He _remembered_. The demons. Watching Castiel be stabbed, seeing him fall to the ground as the demon taunted them both. And Dean, standing off to the side, not reacting. Just standing there staring dumbly, like he had at every other moment in his life when he should have reacted. Like the time the shtriga came for Sam and their father scared it away. Or the time Jake Telley stabbed Sam in the back while Dean and Bobby watched. Or the multiple times Ruby had led his brother down a dark path, and Dean hadn't done a damn thing to stop it.

"Dean, honey, shh. It's okay." Castiel was beside him then, kneeling down and gently pulling Dean against him. Dean resisted for a few seconds, torn between resisting the comfort because he didn't deserve it and clinging desperately to his angel. The desire to make sure that Castiel was okay won out and he threw his arms around Castiel, pressing his face to Castiel's collarbone with a shuddery gasp.

"Sorry, m'sorry," he sobbed, hating the way the tears rushed down his face without his permission. It was stupid and childish, but he couldn't make them stop. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"They stabbed you. I didn't stop them, m'sorry," Dean whispered, more details filtering into his mind. Gabriel and that other angel had showed up to smite the demons. If it wasn't for them, there was an excellent chance that Castiel and Dean would both be dead right now. So much for this whole nestling thing making him a more experienced hunter. All it had done so far was make him even more of a liability, not to mention a drain on Castiel's resources.

"Dean." Castiel's hands tightened on his shoulders. "That was not your fault, okay?"

Dean shook his head, opting not to speak in the hopes of catching his breath, because it was humiliating how broken his voice sounded right now. He dug his fingers into Castiel's shirt, hoping that the pressure might be enough to make them stop shaking. Against his will, he was remembering more about the past few days. Not all of it, but some: little flashes that made sense. He remembered Gabriel carrying him and talking to him, remembered feeling cold and damp between his legs until Castiel wiped him down and left him feeling dry and safe. He remembered sleeping in between Castiel and Gabriel, and leaning back against Castiel while Gabriel helped him drink from a cup because he couldn't do it on his own.

 _Fuck_. In the beginning he'd agreed to this because he hadn't really thought it would ever get this far. But thanks to his little mental vacation, the angels had been treating him like an actual infant. Mortification made his face burn and he was pretty sure he could never look either Castiel or Gabriel in the face again. They'd fed him, bathed him, changed his diaper, and all because he wasn't strong enough to face down a little something like a demon attack. Dean had always wondered about himself, but he had never thought that he was so damn weak. It was disgusting.

"That's _enough_."

The sharp flare of grace was enough to snap Dean out of his silent self-loathing. His eyes snapped open when Castiel pushed him away and then grabbed his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Angel and nestling stared at each other for at least a minute in complete silence. It was easily one of the longest minutes of Dean's life. But no matter how much he wanted to look away or apologize, he couldn't. All he could do was sit there and look back at Castiel, shocked into silence.

"The demons were here because of me," Castiel said, his voice quiet but no less firm. "It was my lack of care that brought them here. They were following me from the moment I left Balthazar's, but I was so eager to get back to you that I didn't notice. The nest is even more heavily warded than the forest, and that's why they waited until we left before they attacked. I was the one who should have been more careful. I know better than to trust that any amount of warding is enough to keep a demon out; I should have scanned the area before we left to make sure that it was safe."

"But I -"

"Be quiet and listen to me, Dean. I understand that part of the reason you agreed to become my nestling was so that you could be a better hunter. And someday, you will have the grace to back that up. But in the meantime, it is _not_ your fault that your reaction time was slowed. Even if you had been operating at full strength, there was nothing you could have done. You didn't have a weapon and you were outnumbered." Castiel's grip was so tight now that it actually hurt a little. It was like he was willing his words to sink in through touch alone.

"As for what happened after the fact... you have been building up to a breakdown since I raised you from hell. All of that stress, the nightmares, the torture... it was literally more than the human mind can handle. I'm shocked, frankly, that you were able to keep yourself together for as long as you did. You were smart. You waited until you were with me and Gabriel, when we could watch over you and protect you and love you. And that's what we did, Dean. I didn't do a single thing for you over the past three days that I didn't _want_ to do. The only thing that soured the experience for me was that you weren't able to consent to it, because you were trying to recover yourself.

"But the fact that you were capable of recovering on your own, without any outside help, proves to me all over again just how strong you are. This changes nothing about you, Dean. You're still a hunter, still Sam's big brother, still the same man. All this -" Castiel let go with just one hand to gesture to the space around them, including Dean himself "- is just giving me the opportunity to show you how much you're loved, to give you some time to not have to take the world on your shoulders, to be cared for. It may be in an unconventional way, and maybe it embarrasses you and makes you ashamed because of how much you want it. But it _doesn't change who you are_."

At the end of his speech, Castiel was breathing hard. His blue eyes were boring into Dean. For his part, Dean still felt like he couldn't breathe. He finally tore his eyes away, glancing down at himself. The sight of the t-shirt and diaper filled him with loathing, but it wasn't as strong as he would have expected it to be. Because although the diaper was a sign of how weak he was, it was hard to protest that it was a sign of how much Castiel cared. The angel could have easily left Dean in a room all by himself, drooling and nonresponsive, to shit himself and get dehydrated until he came back to himself. But he hadn't. 

Instead, he'd gone out of his way to take care of Dean. And every memory of Dean had, even if the shame curling at his insides couldn't be denied when he thought about them, was brightened by the obvious affection with which Castiel touched him. There was caring written into every look, every word, every touch, every action. It didn't excuse Dean's weakness, or how he'd failed to react at the demons, but it was proof. Even if Dean didn't understand why Castiel cared so much, this was proof that he did. And maybe he could take it as proof that Castiel wasn't going to get tired of this, of him, and decide to leave.

Castiel must have been reading his thoughts, because he jerked back as though he'd been slapped. "Dean, what - oh, sweetheart, _no_." He wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him tightly. "I'm not leaving. Even after you become an angel, I still want to be with you. I was willing to fall so that I could be around you. That's how much I believe in you. I'm not going anywhere, baby, I promise."

The only thing Dean could do was hug him back as tightly as he could. It wasn't the first time he'd participated, but he'd never felt the need to hold on so desperately before. If Castiel had been human, the pressure probably would've cracked a couple of ribs. As it was, he just hummed a few notes of the song he'd been singing before and combed his fingers through Dean's hair. The tenderness of the touch made Dean's throat ache, because he could remember that feeling a lot from the past few days.

"You're okay, Dean," Castiel murmured, his deep voice soft and comforting. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Dean disagreed. The diaper between his legs was cold and damp, and no matter what Castiel said he wasn't really ready to think about what that meant. "Shower?" he asked, his voice hoarse, because the thought of being on his back while Castiel cleaned him up - even if it had happened - wasn't something he was ready for.

"How about a bath?" Castiel suggested, lightly patting his back and moving to stand. He scooped Dean up, bracing him on his hip. Dean tensed in surprise and Castiel stopped short, blinking in surprise. "Oh, right. I'm sorry. I've gotten used to carrying you around."

The thing was, Dean remembered that too. Though Castiel had carried him once or twice before, both he and Gabriel had been carrying him a lot over the past couple days, it seemed - which was ironic, considering how much bigger he was than Gabriel. Castiel's arms were very strong and sure where they held onto him. It didn't feel like he was at risk of falling. It occurred to Dean, at that moment, that maybe this was how Castiel had carried him out of hell: safe and surrounded in an angel's loving grace.

"S'okay," he forced himself to whisper, wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck.

"Alright, then, bath time it is," Castiel said, as though there was nothing unusual about that moment, and carried him into the bathroom.


	21. Chapter 21

Sleeping with someone else in the same bed as him was kind of weird. Of course, Dean had shared a bed multiple times over the years, but that was always in a sexual way. The last time he'd shared a bed with someone platonically had been with Sam, and that was when they were both just kids and John had been too cheap to get a second motel room. Cramming into one bed with a twelve-year-old Sam who'd had beans for supper was not an experience Dean was keen to repeat.

This was different. After his bath, Castiel dried him off and then, without asking, put a diaper on him. Dean seriously thought about throwing a fit, but by that point he was already being put into a pair of warm pajamas, and he was so exhausted that it was hard to stay standing. So he let Castiel lead him into the main bedroom. It was a room that Dean only vaguely remembered from the past couple of days.

Angels didn't typically sleep, but that night - just like the others - Castiel laid down with Dean and they fell asleep together. Dean started the night off on one side of the bed, but at some point he must have rolled over because he woke up to find his face smooshed against Castiel's chest. There was a hand in his hair, lightly petting, and someone else laying behind him. 

" - that Balthazar will help you?" Castiel was asking in a very low voice. 

"I don't know, Cassie. He's your friend, not mine. I mean, he did give the weapons back. I've returned them to heaven. And let me tell you, the look on Raphael's face when he realized that we foiled his little plan was truly priceless. I heard that he vaporized a couple thousand demons, he was so pissed," Gabriel said, and Dean relaxed.

This was familiar, sort of. He remembered sleeping in between Gabriel and Castiel before. Well, Gabriel hadn't really slept - he 'opened himself up to heaven', though on the outside it looked like he just laid there with his eyes shut, remaining alert to the slightest change in the house. Dean had seen Castiel do the same thing in the past. Apparently it was a way of recharging an angel's battery.

He should have felt weird. He was fully conscious now and lying in between two men, wearing pajamas and a diaper. He was also clinging to one of those two men. But he didn't. He felt warm and comfortable and safe. Protected. Where else in the world could you ever be as safe as you were between an archangel and an angel? 

"Do you even want Balthazar in heaven at this point? Maybe it would be better if he stayed here on Earth."

"Don't tell me you want him here with you and the kiddo."

Dean tensed. Immediately, the pressure of the hand in his hair increased a little.

"No, Gabriel. I would like Dean to meet Balthazar, but he's not ready to have someone here besides us all the time. Besides, I'm not sure that the two of them will get along very well."

Gabriel snorted and wriggled around a little. His chest had been touching Dean's back, but then Dean felt something brush against his hip. "I guess you're right. Though it would do Balthazar some good to have someone take him down a few pegs. I bet you could do that, eh, baby boy?"

Fingers curled around the hem of his pajama top and pulled it up. Before Dean could react, Gabriel pressed his face against Dean's belly and blew a raspberry. The sound was loud in the otherwise quiet room and Dean squeaked, his legs jerking automatically at the weird feeling of a mouth vibrating against his sensitive flesh. He stared down at the crazy archangel, and Gabriel peeked up at him and grinned.

"Did you like that?" he asked, not waiting for a response. He did it again and Dean squirmed, biting his lower lip, because it felt so _weird_. It made his belly feel all tingly, and he was torn between trying to get away and liking it. When Gabriel did it a third time and then a fourth, Dean couldn't help himself. He giggled.

It was the wrong thing to do. Gabriel's eyes lit up and he clambered over Dean, settling into a better position where he could pin Dean's hips to the bed and keep him from squirming away. He kept blowing raspberries, deliberately making the farting sound very loud and drawn out and lewd, until Dean was gasping for breath in between giggles. He batted ineffectually at Gabriel's head, but Gabriel just chuckled and kept doing it.

"Who's a cute little boy?" Gabriel cooed, grinning madly, his fingers joining in now. He danced his fingertips up and down Dean's sides, tickling him lightly. Dean squealed at the sensation and wriggled harder, but he couldn't keep his giggles contained. His tummy felt all tingly and twisty, but in a happy way.

"No, no!" he squeaked when Gabriel started blowing raspberries _and_ tickling him at the same time. The onslaught was too much and he threw his head back, falling into a fresh bout of helpless giggles. He barely registered having to pee before it happened, the diaper between his thighs making it seem like it never happened, and still Gabriel kept going.

"I wonder if you're ticklish on your feet, too," Gabriel paused to say, tickling right under Dean's belly button. "Do you think that we should find out?"

"No!" Dean said, which was a blatant lie, because Sam had discovered a long time ago that the bottom of Dean's feet were extremely ticklish. Judging by the grin on Gabriel's face, he could tell. In desperation, Dean turned to Castiel for help. "Daddy! No!"

Castiel had been smiling broadly the whole time, his blue eyes bright with wonder and affection, but at those words his eyes widened even further. "Gabriel, enough," he said immediately.

Gabriel had already stopped, too shocked to continue, but at that he pouted dramatically and fell back. "Telling your daddy on me isn't fair. That's two against one."

"You're an archangel," Castiel pointed out, putting a hand on Dean's belly. Dean flinched, but all Castiel did was rub gently. It helped to soothe away the lingering tingliness and he relaxed.

"I still don't appreciate it when people gang up on me," Gabriel said, sticking his tongue out. But he was still grinning, so he couldn't have been too bad, and Castiel just rolled his eyes at him.

Dean leaned back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, the past few minutes sinking in. Gabriel had tickled him exactly like he was a baby, blowing raspberries on his tummy, and Dean had _liked_ it. Well, up until Gabriel tried to involve his feet, which would've gone past fun into torture. He'd liked it so much he hadn't even paid attention to the fact that he'd pissed himself. In the moment, having fun seemed more important.

And then he'd called Castiel 'Daddy', without even thinking about it. It was the second time that word had slipped out, but it felt so natural. Neither angel had really reacted, either. They made it feel normal. Dean didn't know how to feel. He'd been agonizing over this for so long, torn up about how ashamed and embarrassed he was and how much he secretly wanted it, and now it had happened and it... wasn't a big deal after all.

Of course, the past few days where he'd been totally out of it were proof enough that, somehow, Castiel and Gabriel really were okay with this, even if Dean still wasn't really sure why. But he was conscious now and it was different. He was surprised to realize that he liked this. He really liked the attention he was getting from Castiel and Gabriel. Liked being able to let go, to just react, without fear of judgment or embarrassment. Liked that right now, they were both watching him with these little smiles, like he was the only thing in the room that mattered. No one had looked at him like that for a long time. 

After a couple of minutes during which no one said anything - though the silence wasn't tense or uncomfortable, but pleasant - Dean's stomach rumbled. Dean flushed, but Castiel just patted his tummy lightly and said, "I think it's time for some breakfast. Maybe if we ask nicely, Gabriel will cook us some pancakes."

"Pancakes?" Dean echoed hopefully, looking at Gabriel.

"Oh come on, how am I supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?" Gabriel complained.

Sam had a great set of puppy eyes. Dean hadn't really thought about whether or not he did, too. He blinked and stared harder, trying to remember how Sam looked when he really wanted something. Didn't Sam usually frown a little, like his heart would be broken if he didn't get what he wanted? And he would look down, but not so much that he wasn't making eye contact. He did this, looking up at Gabriel through his lashes and pouting a bit.

Castiel was trying to stifle his laughter. Gabriel just sighed. "That should be illegal, damn it. Alright, fine. Pancakes it is." He rolled off of the bed and stalked out of the room, head held high, and Castiel started to chuckle the second he was gone.

"You're going to have Gabriel wrapped around your little finger if you keep that up," he said.

Dean shrugged, pulling down his pajama top. It was still weird, even if it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He couldn't quite bring himself to look Castiel in the eyes, still feeling self-conscious about the whole 'Daddy' thing, so he wasn't exactly surprised when Castiel gently tipped his chin up so that they were looking at each other. The angel was definitely big on eye contact, that was for sure.

"Dean, I've been asking you to call me 'Daddy' since the day you got here. I'm not mad. If anything, I am very happy," Castiel said gently. "I like it when you call me that. It makes me feel like you trust me."

"I do," Dean admitted. "Trust you." More than he'd ever though he could trust someone who wasn't Bobby or Sam. Maybe even more than he trusted those two, and wasn't that a scary thought?

"Then you should feel good about what happened today. Both Gabriel and I love seeing you have fun. It's exactly what we want. We won't tease you or make fun of you. Well, I won't. If Gabriel does, you have my full permission to throw something at him."

Dean smirked, but didn't say anything else. He wasn't sure if he would be able to call Castiel 'Daddy' outside of the heat of the moment, but if it made Castiel happy... that was different. He hadn't really thought about it like that before. If it was something he did for Castiel, that wasn't really so bad. 

"Daddy," he said cautiously, trying it out. Just like the first two times, it rolled off his tongue surprisingly easily. And he felt a lot lighter as soon as he said it. A little bit of the heaviness in his chest eased. 

Castiel smiled at him. "Yes, baby?"

"Bathroom." Dean was blushing a little. He hoped Castiel would attribute it to using the name 'Daddy', but really it was because he'd peed himself and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He definitely wasn't ready for anyone else to know.

"Okay. Your pull-ups are under the sink, just like always. I'll wait for you in the kitchen. I suppose I should go supervise Gabriel to make sure we don't end up with more chocolate than pancake."

Dean nodded and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He'd expected the diaper to squish or otherwise do something to show he'd peed, but there was nothing. He stood up and walked out of the room, realizing that wearing a diaper wasn't so different from wearing a pull-up. It widened his stance the a little more, forcing him to toddle a bit, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly.

He was glad to take it off, though, burying it under some other trash in the garbage so Castiel wouldn't see it. He wiped himself off and pulled on a pull-up, trying not to think about the few memories he had of Castiel leaning over him, cleaning him off, and then putting him into a fresh diaper. The pull-up wasn't as tight-fitting, didn't feel as secure, but it was something he could do for himself.

After pulling his pajama bottoms back up and washing his hands, Dean went to the kitchen. Castiel was sitting at the table, watching Gabriel make pancakes. There was a sippy cup waiting for him on the table. Dean walked over and grabbed it, pleased to find that it contained orange juice, and didn't protest when Castiel pulled him into his lap and absentmindedly reached up to help him hold the cup. He didn't need the help... but maybe it wasn't so bad to accept it.


	22. Chapter 22

In spite of the full night's sleep they had both gotten, Castiel noticed that Dean was looking increasingly sleepy as he finished his fifth pancake. He dragged a sixth pancake onto his plate and slowly buttered it, then cut it up into smaller pieces before pouring on some maple syrup - _real_ , high quality maple syrup, because according to Gabriel if you were going to have pancakes you might as well do it right.

He was tempted to suggest that Dean stop eating in favor of having a nap, but he knew better. His little hunter would only become that much more determined to finish his meal, even if it meant falling asleep in a puddle of syrup. He hid a fond smile behind his glass of orange juice, catching Gabriel's amused glance. He didn't need to feel the brush of grace to know that Gabriel was thinking the same thing.

Even though it wasn't necessary for them to eat, he and Gabriel had joined Dean at the table. Castiel had to admit that the pancakes were delicious. Gabriel truly had a talent in the kitchen. Even the chocolate pancakes were good, though Castiel preferred the plain ones. Dean, it seemed, liked both equally, while Gabriel was all about the chocolate. Between the three of them, the mountain was quickly disappearing.

Dean picked up his fork and lifted a piece of pancake to his mouth. He chewed slowly, lowering his hand, eyes half-lidded. They slipped shut but almost immediately blinked open as he swallowed, and Dean reached determinedly for another piece. The same process was repeated, only this time Dean's eyes remained shut for a fraction of a second longer and it was obvious that he had to force them back open.

Predictably, he only got about halfway through the pancake before he dropped the fork and his head sank forward. Gabriel snagged the fork before it hit the ground and woke him up, while Castiel's quick instincts got the plate out of the way before Dean's head hit the table. Castiel ran an affectionate hand through his hair, not surprised to feel that Dean's skin was a little warm. It wasn't an illness, merely exhaustion that came from the trauma of the past few days.

"Kid takes after you," Gabriel said, setting Dean's fork down on his own plate. "Doesn't know when to stop and take a break."

"Then it's fortunate he can't just push his body's demands aside anymore," Castiel replied, refusing to rise to the bait. They were all feeling better now that Dean was back to himself, and Gabriel was in a teasing mood. "He responded surprisingly well earlier."

That was an understatement. He was still a little shocked that Dean hadn't pushed Gabriel away or truly protested the tickling. Instead, Dean had giggled and enjoyed it, reacting exactly the way Gabriel wanted him to. His soul had flared under the attention, reveling in a way that Castiel had not been expecting. He'd known, of course, that Dean was starved for affection. But he hadn't thought that Dean was at the point where he would allow himself to be indulged.

There had been some residual embarrassment after the fact, particularly over Dean wetting himself, but that was nothing compared to how Dean would have reacted if this had happened back when he first came to the nest. Not to mention that Dean had actually called him 'Daddy' and meant it. That in itself was a major accomplishment. Much as Castiel loathed the demons for intruding on their nest, he couldn't deny that it might have been a blessing in disguise.

"Yeah, he did," Gabriel said, breaking the contemplative silence that had settled over them. "Humans are so sensitive." There was a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Don't go overboard with it, Gabriel," Castiel said, using his grace to clean the table. He sent the leftovers to the refrigerator, knowing that Dean would probably be hungry for more later, and stood to pick up his little boy, grimacing slightly as the wound in his stomach ached. Dean stirred when he was scooped up, green eyes blinking in confusion.

"Daddy?" he mumbled.

Castiel's heart melted. There was no other way to describe the gooey warmth in his chest. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he said softly. 

"M'not tired," Dean protested, even though he was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. "Wanna stay up with you."

"I'm not doing anything of import, and yes, you are tired."

Dean pouted. "M'not," he whined, squirming to get down.

Instead of letting him, Castiel held him tighter and walked into the living room. He wasn't surprised that Dean wanted to be close to him. Truth be told, he felt the same way. The attack had been traumatizing for them both, and just being able to hold an aware Dean in his arms was making a huge difference. He sat down on the couch, shifting them around until Dean was comfortable, sitting sideways on his lap and leaning against his shoulder, but not against his wound.

"There. Now you know I won't be doing anything," he said calmly. "You can stay awake if you want."

"I will," Dean said stubbornly.

Predictably, less than two minutes later, Dean was snoring quietly. Gabriel snorted when he walked into the room and saw that, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. "I have to get back home," he announced, clearly reluctant. "Unless you two need anything else. I want to see if they've found anything more on those demons."

"I think we're fine for now," Castiel said. His brother had been such a help during the past few days that he was reluctant to see Gabriel leave, but he knew that Gabriel was needed in heaven. He probably shouldn't have stayed as long as he had.

"Fine, then. Call me if anything happens, Cassie, I mean it," Gabriel ordered, pointing a stern finger at him. "I'd hate to find out something else had happened to my favorite little brother and nephew, and by that I mean I'll kick your ass if I find out you should have called me and didn't."

"If anything happens, you'll be the first to know," Castiel promised. Both of them looked towards the door when they felt the change in the wards. But it wasn't an intruder. At the feel of familiar grace, Castiel turned back to his brother. "Did you call Balthazar?"

"Who, me?" Gabriel said, all wide-eyed innocence. 

"Gabriel..."

Gabriel held his hands up. "Hey, you're the one who wanted to introduce him to the baby."

"Gabriel, I am perfectly fine looking after Dean on my own!"

"Of that, I have no doubt. Believe me, if you weren't, Balthazar is not the one I'd have asked for. But until I find out who sent those demons after you, it doesn't hurt to have back-up, and he's the only other one who has already technically met Dean," Gabriel replied. "It's just until I go home and get a report, okay? If there's no need for him to be here, I'll let you know. If there is, I'll come back and replace him."

"So nice to know I'm wanted," Balthazar said as he walked in without knocking. 

"Of course you're wanted," Castiel said, shooting a glare at Gabriel. It was Dean that he was worried about. Despite the fact that Balthazar and Dean had "technically" met, Dean wouldn't remember that and his little boy didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships with angels. The only other angel Dean had actually liked was Anael, and that had gone sideways after a dose of brainwashing. And considering Balthazar's somewhat abrasive personality, he wasn't sure this was going to go well at all.

"Then everyone's wanted and we're all good, so I'm gonna go," Gabriel said brightly. He was gone before Castiel could say anything, making a quick escape back to heaven. It didn't stop Castiel from reaching out with his still healing grace and giving Gabriel a very pointed poke. The only reaction he got back was a strong feeling of amusement.

Balthazar eyed Dean. "Is it sleeping?"

"It?" Castiel echoed, raising an eyebrow. "He's a baby, Balthazar, not an 'it'."

"Gabriel called him a hatchling," Balthazar said.

It wasn't a term that Castiel had thought to apply before, but it definitely fit. Dean was so much younger than the other nestlings, but he slotted in nicely with the other hatchlings that Castiel had seen. He nodded. "That would be the correct term, yes. It will be some time before he is ready to grow up."

"I just don't understand why you'd want to do this, Cassie. I mean, I know you're attached to the human... but this is a level that I didn't think even you would go to."

"I love Dean," Castiel said firmly. 

"Yes, yes." Balthazar scrunched his nose up a bit. "But it's so much... effort. You and Gabriel stopped the Apocalypse. Surely you deserve a break."

Castiel sighed. "If Dean was still suffering as much as he was, I wouldn't be able to enjoy a break." He winced, remembering how broken down and defeated Dean had been in that hotel room. He couldn't be sure that Dean would even still be alive if Castiel hadn't stepped in. Dean would never kill himself, but the hunter had been taking on more and more dangerous hunts by himself even though he'd been in no state to be driving, never mind hunting. Even now, Dean was still far from at full strength.

"Maybe you're just not doing it right," Balthazar suggested. "All this time you've spent with the Winchesters, you've never really experienced the Earth. It has more to offer than you realize."

"I appreciate the offer, Balthazar, but I am where I want to be." It was hard for Castiel to find the words to explain. Love and affection were foreign words to most of his brothers and sisters, as way loyalty to anyone other than their Father. "Dean is... caring for him makes me happy. Figuring out how to make him happy is a different kind of challenge, but one I've embraced."

Balthazar stared at him with an indecipherable expression on his face. "And when he becomes an angel?"

"I hope that Dean will stay by my side," Castiel admitted. He didn't know if that would be the case. Plenty of nestlings left to explore heaven on their own, and he would have to accept that if that's what Dean wanted. He met Balthazar's gaze, understanding what wasn't being said. Balthazar was offering a way out, a chance for them both to shirk their duties. But Castiel wasn't interested. Regardless of whether or not Balthazar chose to return to heaven to help Gabriel, Castiel knew where he wanted to be. He added, "If not, he will still be my friend and I will still care for him."

"It all sounds needlessly complicated," Balthazar said flatly after a moment. "You won't catch me taking a nestling."

"No one said you had to," Castiel said. Honestly, he had a hard time imagining Balthazar with a nestling. His brother just didn't have that kind of patience. "I heard that you helped to protect Dean, though. And you brought him his toy to comfort him. Thank you."

"It was nothing."

"Not to me," Castiel said, reaching out with his grace. Balthazar was surprised, but eagerly accepted the touch, though Castiel was still wary about letting their grace meld when he was nursing Dean. For a few seconds, though, he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of his brother's grace when he wasn't anxious about rushing home to Dean, when his little boy was a comforting weight in his arms.

He must have shifted, or perhaps tightened his grip, because Dean's eyes opened a fraction. Just enough for him to see Balthazar and realize that he wasn't Gabriel. Castiel felt it the second that Dean started to become alarmed. He tensed all over, as though he was going to sit up, and Castiel quickly reassured him.

"This is my brother Balthazar, Dean. It's okay."

Dean kept staring. "I remember you," he said finally. "You were there when Daddy got hurt."

"That's right," Balthazar said. 

"You killed a demon."

Balthazar inclined his head. "I did."

"And you stayed with me..." Dean trailed off.

"Yes. And when you wouldn't stop crying, I found a pacifier that kept you quiet."

The look on Dean's face was priceless. Castiel was hard-pressed to decide what was upsetting him more: the mention of his breakdown, or the idea of the pacifier. 

"I didn't - that's not - you - I don't suck on pacifiers!" Dean sputtered, his face taking on a rosy hue.

"You took it to it rather quickly for someone who doesn't suck on them," Balthazar replied with a smirk.

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

"No I didn't!"

Castiel groaned. It was going to be a long day.


	23. Chapter 23

Ever since Dean started consuming grace, he'd noticed that he didn't have nightmares as often. It wasn't that the grace made him okay with hell, or even that it repressed the memories (though that would've been helpful). It was more like the grace soothed his subconscious at night and helped to keep the nightmares at bay. Sometimes Dean would wake up with the lingering feeling that a nightmare had been right on the brink of taking over his sleep, but it was rare that it actually happened. As it turned out, an angel's will was an extremely effective combatant against the human mind. 

Tonight, though. Maybe it was the fact that the grace was a part of Castiel and that's what he was dreaming about, or maybe this nightmare was just too strong. Whatever the case, the second Dean closed his eyes he fell straight into a nightmare. At first it didn't even _seem_ like it, and those were usually the worst: he was walking down the path with Castiel right behind him, and it was so warm and sunny. A squirrel ran across his path and, still smiling, Dean stopped and crouched down. He heard Castiel say something behind him and turned to look. 

Castiel was still standing there, but now there was an angel blade protruding from his stomach. Blood and grace was leaking from around the wound and out of his mouth and eyes. Dean opened his mouth but no sound came out. He tried to stand up, but his body was frozen. All he could do was stare helplessly as Castiel slowly looked down at the blade, even lifting a hand to touch the point. Then it was wrenched out of him, leaving a gaping mess.

Alastair laughed as Castiel crumbled to the ground, then drew back his foot and kicked the angel in the ribs several different times, forcing him to roll over. Castiel was like a fish out of water, flopping around as he tried to move onto his back. His groans of pain were clearly audible, though gurgled because he was choking on blood. Finally, though, he was sprawled on his back with Alastair hovering over him. Alastair knelt, brandishing the angel blade with a familiar smile.

"Angels make the best targets. I never had the time to show you that, did I?" he said to Dean, slowly bringing the blade down towards Castiel. With great delight, he pressed the tip against Castiel's cheek, until more blood and grace ran freely down Castiel's face. "But then again, I find a lesson sticks best when it comes from the heart." His smile turned cruel, and he thrust the blade into Castiel's chest as Castiel screamed.

This time when Dean jerked awake, he didn't cry out. The effort of keeping his lips pressed together hurt. He remained perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling while his body shook uncontrollably and his lungs seized. It was several minutes before he started to calm down, and that was when he remembered that Sam wasn't in the same room as him. Sam wasn't even in the same town. He was alone. He finally opened his mouth and took several deep, shaky breaths. It didn't do much to help. He was soaked in sweat, but cold enough to shiver a little.

He closed his eyes for a moment and flinched when a picture of Castiel on the ground with Alastair standing over him flashed through his head. He sat up quickly, shivering harder, and rested his forehead against his knees. Sternly, he told himself that it was just a nightmare, and impossible besides: Alastair was dead, and Castiel was right down the hall. It was stupid for him to act like such a baby. It was just a damn nightmare. But no matter how often he repeated those words, a kernel of doubt kept his heart racing. There was no way he would be able to relax until he saw with his own two eyes that Castiel was okay.

Slowly, Dean shoved the tangled covers away and put his feet down on the cold floor. He stood up and crept over to the door, listening for few seconds. The house was quiet, but it hadn't taken long in his line of work to realize that meant nothing. He didn't have much to use as a weapon, but a quick perusal of the closet revealed a baseball bat. It was hard to imagine Castiel tossing a baseball around with him, but right then Dean was grateful for the forethought. Anything that could give him a leg up if something jumped out at him was better than nothing. He swung the bat over his shoulder and proceeded to carefully inch his way out the door, ears straining to hear any sounds.

It was dark, of course, with no lights. He turned down the hall towards Castiel's bedroom, fingers sweating around the handle of the bat. He took it one step at a time, making sure that the floorboards didn't creak beneath his weight, until he was standing in front of the door. It was wide open, and, thanks to the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains, he could see someone lying on the bed. Castiel chose that moment to roll over to face the door, his eyes closed as though he was sleeping, legs shifting beneath the sheets. He was dressed in just a loose pair of sweatpants, revealing the white bandage that still covered a large portion of his torso.

Dean's knees went a little weak from relief, and he slumped against the wall behind him. He slid to the floor, realizing for the first time that he must have wet himself at some point during the nightmare or when he'd woken up. The diaper that Castiel had sneakily put on after his bath was cold and unpleasantly wet. But that was the least of his worries. He put a hand over his face for a moment and forced himself to take a shuddery breath, hating himself when his throat hitched on the exhale. There was no reason to cry. Castiel was perfectly fine. He was sleeping, even if that was a little odd for an angel, and Dean should really go before Castiel realized that he was sitting here watching him.

In spite of his best efforts, a single tear slipped down his cheek. The nightmare was sticking a little too close for him to be able to leave yet. He could still hear the sound of Castiel's agonizing scream echoing through the forest, and if he actually managed to fall back asleep he would be right back in the nightmare - or worse. The last thing Dean wanted to dream about tonight was Castiel on the rack while Dean stood over him, Alastair pressed up against him and cooing instructions into his ear.

He dropped his hand, feeling like he might throw up, and leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the bed through blurry eyes. Now that the surge of adrenaline was leaving, he was crashing hard. His hands were shaking so hard he had to set the bat down or drop it. The sound of the wood impacting against the floorboards was as quiet as he could make it, but it still wasn't quiet enough. Castiel sat up.

"Dean?" he said, head turning automatically towards the doorway. He looked momentarily confused when he saw Dean sitting on the floor, and he immediately got up. "Little one, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

Dean's throat was so tight there was no way he'd be able to force any words through it, so he settled for mutely shaking his head. It was so tempting to run away, even though ultimately that wouldn't do him any good because Castiel would just follow him, but he was experienced enough with the limitations of his body to know his legs wouldn't hold him. And crawling was out of the question.

Trapped, as helpless as he'd been in the nightmare, he stared at his angel. And in the glow of the moonlight, as stupidly corny as it sounded, Castiel _looked_ like an angel. The way he stood, with such perfect posture and rigid command, hinted to his otherworldly nature, and the light seemed more, gathering around him like the untouchable light of heaven - or worse, a halo. His blue eyes were practically glowing.

Castiel came closer, out of the moonlight and into the shadow of the hallway, eyes widening as he took in Dean's appearance, and then he just looked like a concerned parent. Dean had to wonder just how bad he looked. He blinked in an effort to hold back any more tears, but it only served to make them spill over. Castiel crouched down in front of him and cautiously, like he was expecting Dean to knock his hand away, reached out to cup Dean's cheek. His palm was unexpectedly warm.

It felt like something in Dean's chest snapped. He lunged forward, throwing his arms around Castiel with a muffled sob. Castiel grunted softly at the impact, but quickly hugged Dean back. Dean was shaking again as he cried, but he couldn't make it stop. Even with Castiel pressed against him, he kept remembering the nightmare. It would've been so _easy_ for one of those demons to make a killing blow.

Losing Sam had nearly killed him. Losing Castiel would _destroy_ him. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that he wouldn't be able to take it. Over the past couple of years, Castiel had wormed his way into their lives slowly but surely. At first he'd been nothing more than an annoying angel, but that had changed. He was already family, but now he was so much more to Dean. So much so that it was terrifying. Dean clung to him more tightly, whimpering when Castiel shifted.

"Oh, Dean," Castiel murmured, freezing. "It's okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm fine."

"A-Alastair..." Dean managed to choke out, shaking even harder. Just saying the name made him feel cold all over, like it might be enough to bring the demon back to life.

Gentle fingers swept through his hair, and Dean felt the faint touch of familiar grace passing through his mind. He knew that meant Castiel was trying to see what had upset him so much, and, since there was no way he could ever put it into words, he let it happen. After a moment Castiel growled, and his grip tightened a little. Lips pressed against the top of Dean's head in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

"Baby boy, that's never going to happen. Alastair is dead, and I won't be stupid enough to let any demons get the drop on us again," he said soothingly. "Now come here. You're cold, and you need to be changed."

Castiel picked him up effortlessly, apparently not minding that Dean's clinginess made it awkward, and carried him down the hall into the bathroom. Dean buried his face in Castiel's shoulder and just held on as tight as he dared as Castiel removed his pajama pants and the soiled diaper and, presumably, threw that away. Tender hands cleaned him thoroughly, the tingle of grace removing a lingering trace of discomfort, and then Castiel put another diaper on.

"All done. You're being so brave for me, Dean," he crooned, patting Dean's back. Dean sniffled in response, and Castiel whispered, "I know. Come on. You need something warm. How about some hot chocolate? Uncle Gabriel showed me how to make it a couple of days ago, and I believe he left some of his syrup behind."

Dean didn't care what happened as long as he didn't have to let Castiel go. They walked out into the kitchen. Castiel held him with one arm while he gathered the ingredients with his other, never ceasing his low stream of one-sided conversation. It was comforting to listen to the familiar sound of his voice and, behind that, the idle clatter of utensils against a pot and the refrigerator door closing, all normal sounds of home.

"What's going on, Cas?" Balthazar asked from somewhere behind them. Dean tensed a little in surprise. Castiel patted his back again and bounced him a couple of times.

"Dean had a nightmare. I'm making hot chocolate."

"Do you want me to get Gabriel?"

"No, it's okay," Castiel replied. There was a pause, and Dean didn't need to look to know that the angels were having one of those private conversations. 

Then Balthazar said, "Did I ever tell you, Cassie, about the time I caused a riot in Ancient Rome?"

"I believe I missed that story," Castiel said wryly. From the sound of it, he was stirring the milk. 

"It was a long time ago, but I don't think Rome's ever forgotten it. One day Michael came to find me because he said that Rome wouldn't stop praying to him..."

The words washed over Dean. Balthazar's voice wasn't as soothing, but the things he spoke of were so far away from his awful nightmare. Gradually, he became comfortable enough to relax his fierce grip, until Castiel was doing more to hold him up than Dean was. By the time Castiel brought two mugs of hot chocolate to the table and sat down, Dean could lift his head and look around without expecting to see Alastair.

Balthazar accepted his hot chocolate and then actually smiled at him without once pausing in his increasingly elaborate story. Shyly, a little startled, Dean smiled back, leaning against Castiel's chest. Castiel picked up the second mug and held it to Dean's lips, helping him to drink from the mug. It was sweet and warm, chasing away the last bit of cold, and Dean relaxed against him fully.


	24. Chapter 24

Though it was early - far too early for babies to be up - Dean refused to go back to sleep, and Castiel didn't feel right in making him. It was obvious just how much Dean was suffering. The nightmare was weighing heavily on Dean's mind, and it made him clingy. He didn't complain once about being carried around the house, even though normally he would have put up at least a token protest. Instead, when he was walking around, he stuck to Castiel like glue. The one time Castiel slipped out of the room without Dean's notice, the look of abject fear on Dean's face when he came running to find Castiel was enough to make him regret leaving. It took over an hour for Dean to stop shaking.

Needless to say, the day was a quiet one. Castiel managed to coax Dean outside, and he and Balthazar sat on the porch while Dean sat on the grass. He wasn't really playing, because every couple of minutes he kept turning his head to check and make sure that Castiel was okay. Not for the first time, Castiel had to push back the urge to pick Dean up and take him somewhere safe. Gabriel could've created a dimension where no one could find them with very little effort, but ultimately that wasn't what Dean needed. Being so apart from the world would only make Dean worry even more. His little boy was too used to being right in the middle of the action.

He fed Dean an early supper of chicken nuggets, french fries and green beans, then gave him a long, hot bath and put him to bed with a sippy cup of grace. It ended up taking an extra three chapters of Harry Potter before Dean fell asleep, and even then he was fighting it every step of the way. Castiel closed the book, which he was actually beginning to enjoy, and sighed even as he smiled at how cute Dean looked curled up around his bee. He gently cupped Dean's head with one of his wings, noting how instinctively Dean turned into the touch even though a regular human wouldn't have known anything was there. 

Castiel's purpose in heaven had always been as a soldier, and for a long time he had believed that to be fulfilling. It was what he was meant to be, and it wasn't until he met the Winchesters that he realized it wasn't necessarily who he _wanted_ to be. Or at least, not all of it. Because he was discovering that there was a different kind of peace and contentment that came from watching a hatchling sleep, and the fact that it was Dean only made it more meaningful. Here was something fragile and beautiful, the kind of creation that only their Father had been capable of for so long, and it belonged to Castiel. Yet there was a pain in it too, because he could sense the torment just waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting Dean.

It took a little grace to banish those nightmares, easing Dean's restless sleep into something deeper. The effort exhausted him and he swayed as he stood, but he didn't care. It was worth it. He flicked the light off and nearly walked right into Balthazar, who quickly steadied Castiel before he could fall. Castiel thanked him with a silent nod and closed the door most of the way, leaving it open a crack. Normally he would've trusted himself to hear Dean if the baby woke up again, but the effect of nourishing Dean combined with his still severely diminished grace meant that his senses weren't what they should be. He was actually having to sleep at night. They might have to invest in some baby monitors.

Balthazar helped him into the bedroom and lingered as Castiel sank down onto the bed. After a moment, he said, "Do you want me to stay tonight?"

"We'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked."

Castiel closed his eyes wearily. Never had he been more grateful that there were a few of his brothers and sisters that he could really count on than he was now. "Please."

"Go to sleep, Cas," Balthazar said, patting him lightly on the foot. "There are some seasons of America's Next Top Model waiting for my attention."

"America's Next Top Model?" Castiel echoed blankly.

"It's a show about young, hot girls walking around in skimpy clothing," Balthazar said with a lecherous smirk. 

"I don't want to know anymore," Castiel said instantly, holding up a hand. Really, he should have known better than to ask in the first place. He rolled his eyes as Balthazar's smirk grew larger and he sauntered out of the room. His brother was really too much sometimes.

He fell asleep much faster than Dean had, giving in to the demands of his vessel, and he would have stayed that way until morning had it not been for the distinct sound of something heavy hitting flesh. Castiel bolted awake at the same as two very familiar voices started yelling. He raced to the door, jerked it open and stepped out into the hall just in time to see Balthazar wrenching a bat away from Dean with one hand, while the other hand was cupped protectively across his ribs. The overhead light switched on thanks to Balthazar's grace, illuminating the hallway. Dean blinked rapidly, looked from Balthazar to Castiel and back again, and then burst into tears.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Balthazar muttered.

"Dean." Castiel hurried forward, taking his hysterical little one into his arms. "Balthazar, what happened?"

"I caught him sneaking out of his bedroom again. I didn't mean to scare him," Balthazar said defensively. "I just said his name and put my hand on his arm, and he turned around and started hitting me with this bloody bat. He's strong for a hatchling."

"He's a hunter," Castiel pointed out absently, more preoccupied with calming Dean down. Dean was clinging to him again, crying so hard he was having to gulp for air, and a quick brush of his mind revealed another nightmare. This one had taken place in hell, and featured Castiel on the rack while Alastair tortured him and Dean watched. Evidently Dean had woken up just as Alastair handed Dean a knife and commanded him to take a turn. 

Balthazar muttered something unappealing and no doubt insulting under his breath that Castiel chose not to hear. He lifted Dean easily, unsurprised to find that Dean was wet again, and carried him into the bathroom. He removed the wet diaper and sat down on the toilet, setting a half-naked Dean on his lap. Despite Dean's earlier protests to the contrary, when Balthazar leaned around the door and pointedly offered a pacifier, Castiel didn't hesitate to take it. He caught Dean's chin with his hand and popped the pacifier into his mouth before Dean even realized what was going on. Then he wrapped both arms and wings around Dean and just waited.

It took a little while, but gradually Dean's sobs slowed. He sniffled a few times and then Castiel heard the sound of teeth grating across rubber, but, before he could scold Dean, it stopped. Dean sucked hard once and then tried to spit the pacifier out. Castiel caught his eye, shook his head and pushed the pacifier back into place. A pout settled across Dean's tear stained face but he subsided, melting into Castiel's arms like a doll. The only tension that remained was in his hands, where he gripped Castiel's shirt so tightly the material was at risk of tearing. 

"I'm sorry, little one," Castiel murmured, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Dean's back. "My grace wasn't strong enough at a distance to keep your nightmares away for the whole night. I should've stayed with you."

Dean whimpered in response, nudging his head under Castiel's chin. He was shivering a little. Castiel sighed and turned to the sink. He took a cloth, wet it with some warm water, and wiped the tears and snot from Dean's face before rinsing it. Only then did he reach between Dean's legs and begin cleaning the urine from his genitals and buttocks. His grace was too depleted to be used on such a simple task - he really needed to be more careful about what he used it for - but he hadn't wanted to risk upsetting Dean even more by doing it before he was calmer. Dean tensed a bit, his cheeks turning pink, and his eyes squeezed shut, but it seemed that holding onto Castiel was more important than the embarrassment because he didn't try to move away.

"You're such a good boy, Dean. Daddy's good boy," Castiel whispered. Satisfied that Dean was clean, he rinsed the cloth again and then set it aside to dry. His stomach ached as he bent to get another diaper, and he frowned in annoyance. The less he used his grace, the faster he would heal. But it was inconvenient to have to do so now, when he was just easing Dean into this. He had always planned to do this the human way eventually, but Dean would have been infinitely more comfortable with grace the first few times.

He lifted Dean a bit, got a diaper under him and then fastened it together. Through it all, Dean remained quiet. Castiel continued to praise him as he stood up and washed his hands as best he could - a difficult maneuver, considering that Dean refused to let go of him. Then he carried Dean out to the living room. He wasn't surprised to find that Balthazar wasn't alone. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, one leg folded the other, his expression completely serious. There wasn't an ounce of his usual light-hearted joviality visible, but there was a whole lot of concern the instant he caught sight of Dean.

"Balthazar told me what's going on," he said.

"I should have expected this," Castiel said, a little frustrated that he hadn't. Of course what had happened was traumatizing for Dean, and just because he was ready to stop hiding in his mind didn't mean that the trauma had just disappeared. But angels didn't sleep. It was hard to remember sometimes what it meant for the humans that did, no matter how many times Castiel had already soothed the nightmares away from Dean's troubled mind.

"It's not your fault, bro," Gabriel replied gently. "The human subconscious is a powerful thing, and Dean is vulnerable right now. Even when he was a pro at pushing it all down and locking it away, he still had nightmares. At least now he actually has someone to comfort him afterwards."

That was true. Castiel crossed to the couch since Balthazar was occupying the chair and sat down, easily rearranging Dean to make them both comfortable. Gabriel scooted a bit closer and lifted Dean's feet into his lap. Dean peeked over at him, and the misery in his green eyes made Gabriel's whole face soften in a way that Castiel had never seen before. He wondered about it as Gabriel started rubbing Dean's feet. Gabriel had always claimed that he wouldn't take a nestling or a hatchling because he wouldn't be any good at it, but what Castiel had been seeing over the past month strongly suggested otherwise. It was something he would have to talk to Gabriel about in the future.

Putting that aside for now, Castiel turned to Balthazar. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Balthazar said, pulling his shirt up. There was a bruise, which wasn't surprising. Most angels were awkward in their vessels and clung too hard to their true selves, and because of that their vessels couldn't really be harmed. But Balthazar, like Gabriel, had always been at home in his vessel. He added, "He only got a couple of blows in before I got the bat away from him. I could've got it sooner, but I figured you'd be pissed if I broke your hatchling's arm." He smiled innocently.

"Pissed isn't the word," Castiel told him. "But thank you."

Balthazar shrugged, letting his shirt drop. "No problem. This, however, _is_ a problem."

"I agree," said Gabriel. "I think we need to take Dean out of the house."

"What?" Castiel said, surprised.

"We looked into those demons. From what Inias and Hester reported to me, they didn't tell anyone about you or Dean. Too focused on keeping up with your jumps. So you should be safe. Besides, it's not good for Dean to be cooped up here, Cas. He's dwelling on what happened. He needs a distraction, and another walk isn't a good idea."

Castiel mulled this over, but had to admit that Gabriel was right. Another walk would only scare Dean even more, because he'd spend the whole time expecting that the same thing would happen. They would need to take a walk at some point, to prove that wasn't the case, but that was best left for later. He looked at Gabriel curiously. "Then what do you have in mind?"

Gabriel grinned. "Shopping."


	25. Chapter 25

Dean remembered falling asleep on Castiel's lap while the angel talked to Gabriel and Balthazar, but he could tell that someone else was holding him when he woke up again - asleep to full alertness, zero to sixty, Winchester-style, which basically meant he tensed up to the point where a stick was more relaxed. He opened his eyes, alarmed, and found himself staring up at Gabriel. It should've been uncomfortable, considering that Gabriel's vessel was smaller than Dean was, but somehow Gabriel had managed to find a position that was just the opposite. With his head cushioned comfortably on Gabriel's right shoulder, Dean could have easily fallen back asleep.

He didn't. Castiel wasn't on the couch, that much was visible at just a glance, and Dean's heart started to pound as he straightened up and looked frantically around the room. Memories of his last nightmare rolled through his mind. The smile of sick enjoyment on Alastair's face as he loomed over his table of torture implements, each more cruel than the last. The resignation on Castiel's face as he was strapped to the rack: no fear, just a haunting set of blue eyes that filled with disappointment whenever Dean got close enough. The sound of Alastair's laugh when he threw holy oil on Castiel's wings, and the way Castiel's agonized scream rang out into the depths of hell.

That was all horrible enough. But then Alastair had turned to _Dean_. His smile had grown into something truly twisted as he stepped towards Dean, holding another vial of holy oil in one hand and a knife in the other. He'd offered both to Dean, letting it be his choice. And even though he hadn't said a damn word, the meaning had been clear: Dean could choose a weapon, or Alastair could test them first on Dean before continuing to torture Castiel himself. That wasn't even the worst part, though. No, the worst part was that - even with the echo of Castiel's screams in his eyes - Dean had immediately reached out and taken the knife. Even after everything he'd done, he was still willing to sacrifice an angel just to save himself.

A hard shudder went through Dean's body, and he opened eyes that were glazed with tears. He didn't deserve to seek comfort from Castiel, or from anyone else. But before he could do much more than try to fumble his way off of Gabriel's lap, heedless of the way that Gabriel's hands were clamped on his hips to keep him from falling, Castiel literally ran into the room. It didn't matter what Dean thought at that point, the second he saw his daddy, he burst into tears and reached his arms out towards Castiel.

"Oh, Dean, it's okay. I'm right here," Castiel said, scooping him up into a warm hug. "Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry. I just went into the kitchen for a moment." 

Dean just wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck and held on for dear life. He didn't think he'd ever get the images of Castiel in hell out of his head. Castiel patted his back and cooed wordlessly to him, eventually carrying him out of the living room and back down the hall into Dean's bedroom. A little worried that Castiel was going to try to make him go back to sleep, Dean clung to him a little tighter. But he didn't. Instead, Castiel carried him around the room as he opened the closet door to get a t-shirt and then a dresser drawer to get out a pair of jeans and some socks. Considering that he'd spent the past week living in pajamas, Dean's curiosity eventually won out over his fears.

"Daddy?" he asked, turning his head just enough to watch as Castiel laid the clothes out on the bed. It looked like a normal enough outfit, really. The black jeans were brand new and a little stiff, but the shirt was pale blue with a picture of a red car that kind of looked like the Impala on the front. 

"Your uncles and I were talking and we decided that it would be good for us to get out of the house for a little while," Castiel explained.

He froze. "A walk?"

"No, baby. Not yet. You need more of a distraction than that. Do you remember when you first came here? And I said that while I'd bought some things for your room, we'd buy the rest of it later when you could pick out some of it for yourself? Well, we're going to start today. We're going shopping."

Shopping. Somehow Dean hadn't ever thought he'd heard those particular words come out of Castiel's mouth. Just the thought was enough to make him go cold. Shopping meant other people. Other humans, who would be staring at him and judging him and thinking that he was the freakiest piece of shit on two legs. Oh god, what if he ran into Sam or Bobby or someone else that he knew? He and Sam knew plenty of hunters all over the US, from Maine to Florida and pretty much everywhere in between. If anyone saw him, word would get back to Bobby and then Sam eventually. And he wasn't ready for that. He must've gone white, because Castiel started talking fast.

"Calm down, Dean. It won't be what you're picturing, I promise. You won't run into anyone you know, for one thing. We're going shopping in Toronto, Canada, just to make extra sure that doesn't happen. And for another, we're going to some stores that cater exclusively to nestlings and hatchlings. That means no one will be looking at you funny or judging you, because the only people you'll see will be store clerks, other angels, or other nestlings and hatchlings just like you." He smoothed the hair back from Dean's forehead.

"But..." Dean said weakly, so many arguments tumbling through his mind that he hardly knew where to begin. 

"We won't go if you don't want to, Dean. It's your choice."

Dean's jaw snapped shut on the protests he'd just been about to utter as he realized something. Castiel _really_ wanted to go shopping. He'd probably never admit it, especially if he knew Dean wasn't sure about going, but it was all there in the hopeful gleam in his eyes and the way he was sitting up straight, like a kitten waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. Sure, if Dean said he wasn't ready to go, Castiel would veto the trip immediately. But he would be disappointed, even if he'd never say as much out loud. And after everything Castiel had done for him, and everything that the future suggested he was going to do, Dean couldn't bring himself to do that.

He bit his lip and slowly looked back at the clothing on the bed. On second thought, the t-shirt was a little childish. Though since he was sitting on the hip of his daddy, wearing a pajama top and a diaper, he didn't have much of a leg to stand on. He squirmed a little. "Can I... I don't want anyone to know..."

"You can wear a pull-up," Castiel said gently. "No one will know that you have anything on underneath your jeans. That's what they're for."

Oh hell, Dean was really going to hate himself for this. He nodded hesitantly. "Okay."

Castiel looked both surprised and pleased. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Dean whispered, even though he really, really wasn't. He forced a quivery smile. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

For someone who said it was fine if they stayed home, Castiel moved fast once he knew that Dean was on board. In less than half an hour, Dean was dressed - and, as promised, it was impossible to tell that he was wearing the pull-up under his jeans - and so was Castiel. Gabriel and Balthazar met them at the door. There was a bag hitched over Gabriel's shoulder. Dean looked at it curiously. It was pale green in color and had a thick yellow strap, so it looked a little like a duffel bag, except no duffel bag he'd ever seen had pale yellow bees stitched along the bottom. Or had a fatter yellow bee on the front pocket. 

"Ready to go, honey?" Gabriel asked brightly, flinging an arm around Dean's shoulders before he could ask.

"What about the demons?" Dean asked worriedly.

Gabriel glanced at Castiel before he answered. "I did some checking into it. Turns out those were the only two we needed to worry about. But don't worry. We're gonna stick together on this trip, okay? That's why Balthazar and I are coming with you, and a couple of our brothers and sisters will be hanging around as back-up just in case."

It was comforting to hear that there would be other angels around, and wow that was not a sentence that Dean was used to thinking. He let himself lean into Gabriel as Balthazar stepped closer to Castiel. The world blinked away, smearing into a mess of colors that made his belly flip up and down, and cool air rushed around him. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, but it was over just as soon as it had begun. When he dared to peek, he found himself looking up a shopping center. There was about ten stores and a couple of restaurants, ranging from what looked like a furniture store to a clothing store to a toy store to a book store. The parking lot was filled with cars, and while there were lots of people around no one gave them a second glance for appearing out of midair.

But it wasn't until Dean took a closer look at those people that he understood _why_. Some of them were immediately identifiable as angels. Not because they had wings or held blades, but because of the awkward, stiff way in which they held themselves. It was exactly the same way that Castiel used to act before he'd nearly fallen. The rest, though... Dean had never really paid much attention to nestlings before, but now he couldn't stop staring at them. There were men and women of all different ages - the youngest that he could see looked around twenty, but the oldest was easily late fifties - dressed in little kid clothes, holding the hands of angels or being carried or just walking close as they headed into stores.

It looked so... _normal_ that he had a hard time wrapping his head around it. Castiel had told him repeatedly that nestlings were common, but a little part of Dean hadn't been able to believe it until now. But the proof was right in front of him. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the two or three people who were dressed even younger than most of the nestlings and were sucking on pacifiers or clinging to stuffed animals, including one angel who appeared to be pushing an actual stroller towards the clothing store. It didn't take a genius to guess what - or rather, who - was in the stroller. His head was feeling a little funny, and if it hadn't been for Gabriel's firm grip around his shoulders he might've fallen right over.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"I..." Dean trailed off, swallowing. Because the weird thing was, he didn't stand out at all. No one was looking at him strangely or thinking he was shameful because they were all doing the same thing. Like it was natural.

"Just a little overwhelmed, I think," Gabriel muttered. He squeezed Dean gently. "Come on, kiddo. Let's start with the book store, okay? Burn off a little energy before we go to the furniture store. And then we can hit up the toy store." He was grinning, positively gleeful at that idea.

"Perhaps we should do the toy store first," said Castiel.

"No way, Cassie. Gotta save the best for last!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Castiel muttered, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling. "Dean?" He held a hand out in invitation.

Dean looked at the offered hand. He looked around the plaza again, seeing even more details than before: a woman around his age who was wearing a tutu and carrying a big pink bunny. A man a few years older than him who was being carried by a female angel into a restaurant. Another man who was wearing a backwards baseball hat, a store bought uniform that said 'MVP - DOUGIE' and carrying a bat. A woman who was riding piggy back on a male angel. At least half a dozen nestlings playing on what looked like a playground, only with equipment designed to be large enough to accommodate adults. And that stroller, loitering in front of the clothing store as the angel chatted with another angel. He looked back at Castiel's hand.

Slowly, he took it.


	26. Chapter 26

The bookstore wasn’t as large as some of the ones that Sam had fawned over in the past, but it was decently sized from what Dean could see. The front area seemed to be designed for little kids, as there was a big mat on the floor and lots of colorful bean bag chairs and even a few toys. Some of the books that were lying around even looked like picture books, though Dean wasn’t sure what a nestling would want with a book like that – it wasn’t like this process made them lose the ability to read English.

Castiel squeezed his hand and then let go. “Stay here with Balthazar, okay? I want to get some more books for us to read before you go to bed.”

Considering that Dean would be the one listening to the stories, that sounded like something he should be a part of. But when he turned to say as much, all he saw was the backs of Castiel and Gabriel as they made their way deeper into the store. For few seconds, his chest tightened and panic threatened to overwhelm him. He even took a step after them before he forced himself to stop. He was being stupid. Castiel would be perfectly fine in the store, especially with Gabriel beside him. There was nothing Dean would be able to do even if they were attacked.

So instead, he turned back to look at the area for kids. There were a couple of nestlings sitting on the bean bags – two women who were giggling over a book – but otherwise the space was empty. Instructions or not, he was about ready to move on to something more interesting when he noticed one of the books on the floor beside his foot. All of the printing was in a strange language he couldn’t identify. The symbols meant nothing to him. He bent down and picked it up, frowning.

The cover depicted a smiling male nestling with pale green wings flying over a bed of flowers, which didn’t give much hint as to what the title would be. Dean flipped the book open and looked at the first page. The same male nestling as the one on the cover was shown sitting on a bed, looking despondent, while an angel stood over him. There was more of that weird writing across the bottom of the page in big block letters, but this time one of the symbols was a little more familiar even if he still wasn’t sure what it meant.

The language was Enochian, Dean realized, slowly sinking down onto a blue bean bag. It fluffed up around him but he was too interested in the book to care. He and Sam and Bobby had done a ton of research into angels during the Apocalypse, and he could remember how much difficulty that Sam and Bobby had had trying to read some of the tomes – it was next to impossible without Castiel around to translate. But he was positive he would’ve remembered Bobby having books like _these_. God, Sam would shit a brick when he found out that there were Enochian picture books.

He turned to the next page, and then the next, and pieced together that the story was about the male nestling learning to fly. Judging by one picture, which showed him sitting on the ground and crying while the angel from the cover consoled him, it was meant to be a corny message about not giving up. Despite that, none of the symbols made any sense to him. And he couldn’t have even tried to pronounce them. It was frustrating, and it got even worse when the two nestlings across from him started whispering in Enochian. He recognized the deep, guttural syllables and glared at them.

“Your face could get stuck that way, you know,” Balthazar said, and Dean started badly. He’d nearly forgotten that the angel was even there. He turned, looking past Balthazar and scanning the store quickly to see who else might’ve snuck up on him, but no one was within a ten foot radius except for the other two nestlings. 

Balthazar knelt beside him and put a hand on top of Dean’s, gently prying his fingers free from where he’d unconsciously gripped it so hard. “You won’t be able to read Enochian for a while yet.”

“Why not?” Dean asked, frowning at him. “I’m an angel. Sort of.”

“You’re a hatchling,” Balthazar corrected. “Not even nestlings can read Enochian. You haven’t absorbed enough grace yet.” He closed the book. “When you’re fully grown, your grace will understand the language intuitively and translate the sigils into something your mind can identify. With practice, you'll be able to speak it.”

“But Bobby could read it.”

“No, he can’t. He can see that two symbols are the same, and make guesses on what they mean based on the context, but he can’t really _read_ it the way that an angel can. I suppose you could do the same, and eventually – like Bobby – you would be capable of doing it quickly enough that it seems like you’re reading the texts. But that would require years of practice, and you’re a baby. By the time you’d learned the human way, you’ll have matured.”

“So then what are those for?” Dean pointed to the book.

“Practice. Someday, when you’re older, Cassie will buy these for you and help you learn to develop the pathway between your grace and your mind to make the process easier on you and translation faster. Just like a human child learning to read for the first time,” Balthazar finished, not unkindly, but it still left Dean frustrated. He scowled down at the book and the offending language. 

“It’s not fair,” he muttered. He didn't particularly like reading that much - he'd always been slow at it - but he didn't like the idea of being told he couldn't do something, either.

The next ten minutes were spent in stubborn silence, not that Balthazar tried to talk to him again. Dean pretended to ignore the two nestlings until a male angel came by to collect them, and then he just sat and glared at the nearest shelf of books until Castiel and Gabriel came back. Castiel was carrying a bag which was filled with several books. He frowned when he noticed that Dean was pouting and looked back and forth between him and Balthazar.

"Is everything okay?"

"Your baby wants to learn to read," Balthazar said before Dean could stop him, showing Castiel the book he was still holding.

Dean blushed a little, quickly dropping his eyes to avoid the surprised - or maybe even amused - looks. He knew he wasn't very smart. It was one of the reasons why he left books and research to Sam. He wished now that he'd just left the stupid book alone. Trying to figure out what the Enochian was saying had given him a headache and made his eyes ache from the strain, not that he was about to say as much out loud.

"I think you're a little young for that," Gabriel said, dropping a hand onto Dean's shoulder. "But your daddy could read it to you."

"No," Dean said, shaking off Gabriel's hand. He rolled out of the bag and clambered to his feet. The movement made his head hurt a little more, but he ignored it. If Castiel or Gabriel found out, they'd make it better. And he didn't want that right now. He looked up at Castiel.

"Daddy, I'm bored. Can we go now?"

"Of course," Castiel said, though there was another frown tugging at his mouth as he took Dean's hand and allowed him to lead the way out of the store.

Unfortunately, the next step was the furniture store instead of somewhere more interesting. At least it was a much bigger store than the bookstore, but it was still divided pretty evenly into a kid's side and a baby side - and much to Dean's displeasure, Castiel immediately turned into the baby side. And sure there was a lot of furniture - cribs, changing tables, high chairs, strollers, and walkers just to name off what he could see at first glance, but there were also accessories like comforter sets and mobiles - but there was no need to buy any of it.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

"To buy furniture, Dean. I told you that."

"But my room has enough furniture in it. We don't need any of this stuff."

"That's for me to decide, not you."

Dean scowled again and stopped walking, deciding that he wouldn't move another step. But that didn't stop Castiel from continuing on. He was clearly an angel on a mission, because he just let go of Dean's hand, told him to stay with Gabriel, and walked away with Balthazar in tow. Dean stared after the two of them incredulously, torn between shock that Castiel had left him behind _again_ or frustration that no one was listening to him. 

He was seriously contemplating just waiting outside of the store until an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Either oblivious or just outright ignoring the hint he'd been given earlier, Gabriel gently steered Dean down another aisle. This one had a bunch of seats that at first Dean couldn't identify, until he realized that they were meant to function as a cross between a carrier and a car seat. It didn't look comfortable, and if Castiel thought Dean was getting into one...

Gabriel started to laugh. "If you could see the look on your face right now, sweetheart."

"Shut up," Dean mumbled, aiming a jab at Gabriel's ribs that did nothing to free him from the archangel's grip. There was nothing to do but let himself lean into the warmth a little as they walked up the next aisle. This one was full of different styles of rocking chairs, and at least these Dean could appreciate: some of the chairs were carefully crafted works of art, not the cheap crap usually found in department stores.

That wasn't so bad. But then they turned the corner into the next, and last, aisle, and Dean found himself looking at a bunch of strollers. At first glance, he wasn't sure why they were even in the part of the store that catered to hatchlings. Not a single stroller looked big enough for a five-year-old, never mind a grown adult. They were all roughly the same size as a regular baby stroller. Come to think of it, so had the one he'd seen outside when they first arrived, and he said as much.

"Ever heard of the TARDIS?" Gabriel asked him, finally dropping his arm so that he could reach up and grab one of the strollers. It was one of the simpler ones, black and sturdy with padding across the handles and a little space underneath for bags. He set it down in front of Dean, and Dean wasn't sure what the TARDIS was but the stroller was way bigger on the inside than it was on the outside.

The inside looked more like a full length bed. The space was mostly vertical, though there was a slight tilt so that whoever was inside would be sitting up a bit even when lying down. The tag attached, when Dean glanced at it, said that it could be converted into a seated stroller as well, and for that reason it came with an attachment to fit across the lap of the hatchling. It also said that the hood of the stroller, which could be pulled down all the way, was mojoed to keep anyone on the outside from seeing in while whoever was inside could still see out.

Dean was skeptical at best. He stuck a hand under the hood and stared hard at it, but he couldn't see anything beyond the fabric. But then, that wasn't saying much considering that Gabriel was once told him that his eyesight was shit compared to an angel's. And even if no one could see in, what were the chances that the hatchling on the inside could see what was going on?

"Do you want to try it?"

"What?" Dean squeaked, but Gabriel was already gripping him under the arms. Too fast for him to struggle, Gabriel lifted and turned him around, neatly setting him down in the stroller. Then he gently pushed Dean down until he was lying on his back, looking up at the hood.

It wasn't really clear - the lights from the store would've been blinding if they were, since he was looking straight up at them. His view was shaded, but he could still see everything, so it was like putting on some really expensive sunglasses. He propped himself up on his elbows, surprised to find that the stroller was actually pretty comfortable. The mattress or whatever was lining the stroller was thick and supported his body in all the right places, and there was even a little pillow for his head.

"What do you think?" Gabriel said, lifting the hood and peeking in at him. He was smiling. "I can't see in, if that's what you're wondering. I'd have to link my grace to it first."

"How do you do that?" Dean asked.

"I'll tell you later. Here, look at this." Gabriel did something - Dean wasn't sure what - and the view of the store faded away as colors bloomed across the hood. Dean's eyes widened as beautiful blues, greens, purples and silvers swirled together into a replica of the Milky Way galaxy before exploding apart into a shower of stars.

Without even thinking about it, he laid back down. His head still hurt, but the colorful soft lights were a lot easier to look at than the store's harsher lighting was, and the darkness eased the strain on his eyes. And when the stroller started to move, he relaxed even more. It was nearly identical to the feeling of the Impala on the road, and it reminded him of being a little kid and curling up in the backseat with Sam while their dad drove through the night.

He wasn't even aware of his eyes drifting shut. Within minutes, he was asleep.


	27. Chapter 27

It took every ounce of determination that Castiel had not to run back to Dean at the bookstore. Gabriel's firm hand on his elbow, which propelled him forward, helped, as did the brush of grace from Balthazar that told him Dean was fine. Despite that, he didn't breathe easily again until he was standing beside Dean and could see Dean with his own two eyes. Dean was a little sulky and petulant, perhaps: signs of a possible temper tantrum from a cranky baby that hadn't gotten enough sleep the past two days. But at least he was still in one piece physically. Castiel could handle a temper tantrum no problem.

They moved on to the furniture store, and this time it was a little easier to leave Dean at the front of the store. Gabriel, much as he would be reluctant to admit it, would impale himself on his own blade before he'd allow anything to happen to Dean. Castiel tried not to dwell on it, instead turning his attention to purchasing furniture for Dean. As it stood, Dean's bedroom was ready for a young child, not a baby. There was still a lot that they were missing. He didn't expect to be able to buy everything today, but there were a few keys things that he was looking for. He made his way towards the back of the store, where he knew the cribs and changing tables were located.

Balthazar lingered nearby, clearly bored out of his mind, as Castiel inspected what the store had to offer. All of it was specially designed for hatchlings, strong and sturdy enough to support the additional weight without taking up too much space - a benefit to angel mojo, as Dean would say. He selected a dark brown changing table that came with drawers underneath to hold supplies, and then moved on to the cribs. It would be a while before Dean was comfortable sleeping in a crib. Having what Dean would perceive to be bars around him with no immediate means of escape wouldn't be beneficial to him right now. But Castiel had something very special in mind that would hopefully help Dean to sleep more deeply in the short run.

"Can I help you?"

Castiel turned his head to meet the eyes of his sister. He smiled. "Hello, Rachel," he said, genuinely pleased to see her. Balthazar had mentioned that a few of their siblings would be around today just in case, but he hadn't said who. It had been nearly a thousand years since Castiel had seen his sister, but Rachel's grace was as demure and sweet as ever when it shyly brushed against his in welcome.

She smiled back at him and spoke out loud. "Hello, Castiel. What are you looking for?"

"I need a crib that can vibrate," Castiel replied. Dean had often spoken longingly of the 'Magic Fingers' employed by several of the motels that he and Sam had stayed at, and Castiel knew from seeing his memories when he raised Dean that the soothing vibrations had, on several occasions, helped both the Winchesters fall asleep when their father was away on a hunt. He hoped it would do the same for Dean now.

Rachel looked thoughtfully at their stock. "I'm not sure any of these floor models are capable of that. But we could order something in for you. Keziel does the most beautiful work, and he's always looking for a challenge. Do you need it right away?"

"Within the next couple of days, preferably. I would actually like it in this style," Castiel said, tapping a finger against the crib he was standing in front of. It was more expensive than most of them, but that was because it was capable of being changed into a bed. All four of the sides could be raised into a crib or dropped to look like decorations. He would be able to put up a side at a time, allowing Dean to adapt to the crib more slowly.

"I don't see why that would be a problem," Rachel said, making a note on the tablet she was holding. She held it with an ease that Castiel envied. "What else are you looking for?"

"I'd like to get a high chair, possibly a play pen, but that's not something I need to get today. Most important is the changing table, the crib and a rocking chair."

"We've got a beautiful selection of rocking chairs. Come on."

She led him to where the rocking chairs were set out. Castiel spent some time looking over each one, recognizing the craftsmanship of Keziel in several of them. He finally chose one that was in the same dark brown wood as the changing table. It was wide and solid, with deep green cushions, and it would be comfortable for both him and Dean. Rachel marked down both the rocking chair and the changing table, her brow furrowing for a moment. Then she glanced up at him.

"Do you have diapers? A changing pad? Bottles? Burping cloths? Formula? Washing mitt? Pacifiers? Wipes? Cream? Comforter set for the crib? Swaddling blankets? Bibs? A baby monitor?" she rattled off, holding up her tablet. The list on the screen was very, very long.

Castiel blinked at her. "I have... pacifiers... and some bottles and diapers..."

For a moment, her smile actually looked kind of evil. But apparently she decided to take pity on him, because she patted his arm. "Just give me your card, Castiel. I'll put together a sampling of what you'll need, okay? We can even deliver it."

"That won't be necessary. Just let me know when it's ready and Gabriel will come."

It was Rachel's turn to blink. "Gabriel? I - okay." Her cheeks flushed, eyes widening, and Castiel glanced over his shoulder. As though summoned by the sound of his name, Gabriel strolled over to them. He was pushing a black stroller and whistling softly under his breath, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Castiel raised an eyebrow as he approached, wondering at the obviously missing person. Surely Dean wasn't -

"Hey bro!" Gabriel said, beaming. "Rachel. Look." He gripped Castiel's shoulder, tugging him closer and lifting the hood of the stroller a bit.

Dear Father. Castiel had to grip the handles of the strollers to keep from melting into a pile of mush on the floor. Dean was curled up in the stroller, on his side sound asleep. The thumb of his right hand was in his mouth, and a thin stream of drool had dribbled down his cheek and across his shoulder. He looked so adorable that Castiel almost wondered if it was a trick, but no. Dean Winchester would never get into a stroller and pretend to be asleep just for a trick. This was actually happening. He glanced back at his brother with an incredulous look, wondering what Gabriel had done. Short of knocking Dean out and dumping him in the stroller...

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. For your information, your hatchling was roughly two seconds away from a cranky meltdown before I distracted him. Nothing soothes the savage beast like the feel of a car driving - or in this case, a stroller moving." He demonstrated by pushing gently on the stroller, sliding it back and forth, earning a soft, pleased sound from Dean. Then he wiggled his eyebrows at Castiel and pointedly added, "You're welcome, by the way."

"Thank you," Castiel said belatedly, looking back at Dean, wanting to burn the image into his memory. 

Rachel had kept back, even though curiosity was written all over her face. Now, she cleared her throat. "I take it you want the stroller too," she said. "We do carry a small line of baby blankets, if you're interested."

"Yes. I also want a set of baby monitors today," Castiel replied, pleased that she had reminded him. He couldn't help reaching down into the stroller and gently stroking Dean's hair away from his face. Dean made another quiet sound and turned his head, nuzzling into the touch. It was unbearably sweet.

"No problem. Follow me."

She was a fast worker. Within half an hour, Castiel was carefully draping a beautiful pale blue blanket over Dean so that his little one wouldn't get cold. In the space underneath the stroller, he'd placed a specially chosen mobile and a brand new set of baby monitors that was guaranteed to work. Those would make monitoring Dean at night, at least until Castiel no longer required sleep to help regain his grace, much easier. He didn't want another repeat of last night's incident. Balthazar likely wouldn't react so kindly a second time.

Gabriel paid for it all. Thousands of years hiding on Earth had given him plenty of money, and he had no qualms about sharing it. Money was pretty meaningless to an archangel that could snap up whatever he wanted. While Rachel was running his credit card, Castiel used a little grace to connect to the stroller, allowing him to see Dean through the protective hood and manipulate the mobile that, according to Gabriel, had eased Dean into sleep so easily.

He allowed Gabriel to connect as well, but not Balthazar - not that his brother would have wanted to. Balthazar was looking increasingly bored by the shopping, as it happened, though he hadn't once complained. Castiel shot him a grateful look as they emerged from the furniture store back into the sunlight and received a smirk in response. It wasn't like Balthazar to be so accommodating, and Castiel was truly grateful for his presence. Getting out of the house wasn't just beneficial to Dean.

"Okay, what next?" Gabriel said, rubbing his hands together. "Clothing? Toys? The candy store?"

"I am not following you into a candy store," Balthazar said.

"Oh come on. Where's your sense of adventure? You don't know half the things that humans are capable of. It's like magic."

Balthazar didn't look convinced. "No."

"I'll call Samandriel down and he can accompany us. You can go, if you like," Castiel said, figuring that it was best to intervene before Gabriel tried physically dragging Balthazar into the candy store. For that matter, he wasn't sure it was a wise idea to let Gabriel go in there at all. But he doubted that anyone would be able to stop him. 

"Are you sure, Cassie?"

Castiel nodded. "We'll be fine. Rachel is here, Samandriel will be coming, and I can sense Inias and Hester are nearby."

Though he hesitated a moment more, eyes searching Castiel's face intently, Balthazar finally nodded. "Very well. Good luck with the rest of your shopping." 

He was gone before Castiel could respond. Gabriel sighed loudly, crossing his arms and leaning against the store's window. "Just doesn't know how to have fun, that one."

"He just has a different idea of fun, I think," Castiel replied, remembering Balthazar's offer to traverse the world. He hated to turn his brother down - and if it weren't for Dean, Castiel might have accepted. At the very least, travelling with Balthazar promised to be an enlightening experience. But he couldn't fathom leaving Dean behind. He glanced down at the stroller, knowing there was a stupid smile pasted across his face. 

"Might have to teach him a few things," Gabriel muttered, looking thoughtful.

There was no point in telling him to behave. Castiel settled for rolling his eyes and pushing the hood of the stroller up a bit so that he could slip a hand inside. He stroked a hand over Dean's sleep warm cheek, pausing when Dean squirmed a little and then went tense. The baby made a face and whimpered, then rolled over onto his other side and curled up under the blanket. Castiel waited until he went limp again, then confirmed a sneaking suspicion by slipping a couple of fingers down the back of Dean's pants.

"Why don't we stop for lunch?" he suggested, straightening back up. "Dean should eat, and he needs to be changed. Then we'll go to the toy store. He can have another nap later if he gets tired while we look at the clothes."

Gabriel handed over the diaper bag. "Fine by me. I heard Biggersons does a mean ice cream sundae."

"Gabriel, we're going to a _candy store_ later."

"Ice cream and candy go into a different stomach, bro."

"I'll take your word for it," Castiel said wryly, hoisting the diaper bag onto his shoulder and following his brother down the sidewalk. The restaurant was on the other side of the strip mall, and he didn't mind walking instead of flying. It would give Dean a few extra minutes of sleep before being changed.


	28. Chapter 28

While Gabriel procured them a table, Castiel wheeled the stroller into the back of the restaurant. Instead of taking Dean into the men’s bathroom, which technically would have what he needed to change Dean, he opted for the so-called hatchling room instead. It was a single room with a door that locked, and there was ample space for the two of them plus the stroller, the toilet, the sink and a sturdy changing table along the right wall. No chance of anyone walking in on them meant that Dean would be more comfortable.

He set the diaper bag on the bottom of the changing table and pushed the hood of the stroller back, smiling fondly when Dean automatically flinched away from the light. “Come on, little one,” he murmured, sliding his hands under Dean’s arms and lifting him up with only a slight wince. Dean barely stirred, evidently too use to being picked up now for it to warrant such a reaction, and Castiel set him down on the changing table. 

It was fortunate that he’d had the forethought to pack a separate pair of jeans. The pull-up was soaked through with urine, which he had suspected might happen: they didn’t have the absorbency of a diaper. He removed Dean’s shoes, then opened Dean’s jeans and pulled them and the pull-up down his legs. He threw out the pull-up and folded the jeans up – he would clean them later, after he’d slept and had more grace to spare – and slipped them into a clean bag before putting them into the bag. He removed wipes, a diaper and the fresh pair of jeans.

When he turned back to Dean, he saw that he was being watched by a pair of slitted green eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

“No,” Dean said, scowling at the sight of the diaper. He started to sit up but swayed, dangerously closed to falling off the table, and Castiel quickly gripped his shoulders and pushed him back down.

“Sit still, Dean,” he ordered. “No one will know that you’re wearing a diaper, okay? I promise. It’s just us here. The door is locked. Gabriel is outside. I have another pair of jeans for you.” He kept his hands on Dean’s shoulders until he was certain that the sleepy baby wouldn’t try to get up again.

“No,” Dean said again, tears forming in his eyes, though he didn’t allow them to fall.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Castiel whispered, reaching for one of the wipes. He continued to speak in a low, soothing tone, having already observed how much the sound of his voice could calm Dean down. Dean still flinched at the first touch of the wipe between his spread legs, and his face reddened as he determinedly turned away, like he thought he could ignore what was happening through willpower alone.

That was fine, so long as he remained still. Murmuring praise, Castiel cleaned him up quickly and with as little touch as possible so as not to make Dean’s discomfort worse, and then lifted his hips to slip the diaper underneath. He pulled the front up and smoothed the plastic straps into place, noticing that a little of the tension in Dean’s body eased when the diaper was in place. Interesting. It was very tempting to dip into Dean’s head and find out exactly what his little one was thinking – it was possible, even likely, that Dean was finding the diapers more of a comfort than he’d ever admit to – but he refrained. 

“All done, sweetheart. You were such a good boy for Daddy,” Castiel said, watching him closely. The progress they’d made was unbelievable. Not long ago, Dean would’ve freaked out and probably tried to punch him for this. “Do you want help sitting up?” 

Dean shook his head and sat up more slowly this time, bracing his hand against the wall. He rubbed his eyes gingerly, squinting up at the light. “Time’s it?”

“Just after three,” Castiel replied, turning on the sink to wash his hands. Dean had slept for about an hour, though he clearly could do with another nap as he still looked very tired.

Dean looked around the small room. His gaze fell on the trashcan and the soaked pull-up inside. His blush, which was just starting to fade, came back in full force. “I didn’t –”

“You were sleeping.”

“But – I didn’t even have a nightmare!” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, confused. “You are still mostly human, and I’m given to believe that urination has very little correlation with nightmares.”

“It doesn’t. I just –” Dean stopped himself with visible effort, looking even more distressed now than he had during the actual change. “I didn’t even know it happened,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and then Castiel understood.

He stepped closer to Dean and hugged him. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said gently, unable to resist wrapping his wings around Dean as well. “That’s what the pull-ups and diapers are for. It’s normal for it to happen at first while you sleep, when you’re more relaxed.” And when Dean’s conscious mind wasn’t aware and rebelling against what his subconscious so clearly wanted. 

“But…”

“But what?”

“But what will Sammy think?” Dean asked, sounding terribly young, and just saying the words seemed to terrify him even more. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, and Castiel hastened to reassure him.

“Your brother doesn’t have to know. Dean, when you’re wearing jeans no one knows what you have on underneath. I assure you I don’t plan to change you in front of Bobby and Sam,” Castiel said, wondering if this was something that Dean had genuinely worried about. Judging by Dean’s shuddery exhale, probably. “Right now the only other people who know are Gabriel and Balthazar, and they have the same attitude as I do. This is _normal_. You’re a hatchling, and no different from thousands of other hatchlings that we’ve seen before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Didn’t you see the other hatchlings who were out shopping?” He carefully brushed a few strands of sweaty hair off Dean’s forehead. “You’re not the only one who has benefitted from something like this, little one. There have been hatchlings even younger than you, who were so broken that they needed to be treated like a newborn.”

Dean winced. “You’re not –”

“No,” Castiel said, amused. “I just want you to know that you are loved, and being a baby means that you can accept my affection without feeling like you need to do something in return. Most angels who take hatchlings feel the same way, I assure you. It’s not very difficult to tell how old a human will turn out to be when they start consuming grace.”

“So if some other angel had decided to take me on…”

“I doubt you would have agreed. But yes. I still think you would be as you are now,” Castiel told him. Outside influence had definitely been the key ingredient in bringing Dean this far. But like it or not, there was a very real part of Dean that reveled in being treated like a baby. No worries, no fears, no hunting, just the love and attention he should’ve had the first time around, letting him deal with the trauma of the past several years in a far more healthy way than he would have if left to his own devices.

For about a minute, Dean was quiet. He was looking at the diaper between his legs, but he wasn’t pulling away or crying. Finally, he asked, “Am I gonna get to the point where I can’t control it?”

“The goal is for you to get to a place where you feel comfortable using your diaper and trusting that you’ll be taken care of,” Castiel said patiently. He suspected that Dean would never fully lose control, but as his body learned not to pay attention to the signals of his bladder it might be harder. “Eventually, once your soul begins to produce grace, you won’t have to urinate at all. Or eat. Or sleep.” 

“No food?” Dean squeaked, looking horrified.

“You won’t _need_ food, but you can still eat just like Gabriel and I do. I wouldn’t ask you to live without cheeseburgers.”

“Right.” Dean nodded, just once, and thumped his heels against the changing table. He avoided Castiel’s eyes, blushing again, as he added, “I won’t ever take a shit like this. That’s just not happening.”

Castiel laughed. He should have been expecting that, but somehow Dean still managed to surprise him. “You don’t have to. If you need to go potty, you can tell me and I will take you. But if you _did_ have to, if you were sick or couldn’t make it in time, I hope that you know I wouldn’t be angry or punish you. I’m your daddy. That’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean said with confidence.

“Well, just so you know.” Castiel handed him the other set of jeans, sensing that Dean needed to be a little independent right then. Dean hopped down so that he could pull them on, covering the diaper. He examined himself critically in the mirror, turning from every angle to make sure that the diaper wasn’t visible. It wasn’t. He finally agreed to put his shoes back on.

“I still think it’s weird,” Dean muttered as he knelt to tie them. 

“What is?”

“When you did… that.” He waved a hand at the changing table.

“Was it good weird?” Castiel asked, already knowing the answer, and his suspicion was confirmed when Dean flushed and shrugged instead of answering. Undoubtedly it made Dean feel embarrassed and completely out of depth when he was put into such a vulnerable position. But the very fact that he’d allowed it meant that he was becoming more aware, and that was excellent progress.

He wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him into for another hug that Dean eagerly sank into, and brushed a kiss across the top of Dean’s head. “I’m proud of you, Dean,” he murmured. “I know this is hard for you, but you’re doing really well.”

They walked out with Castiel’s arm still around Dean’s shoulders, pushing the stroller in front of them. Dean’s gaze swept the restaurant, and Castiel noticed him paying special attention to two hatchlings in the far corner of the restaurant. One of them was about the same age, mentally and physically, as Dean. She was sitting on the lap of her parental angel, being fed a bottle. Her eyes were half-open, little pink wings fluttering sleepily. The other was a little older, probably five or six years old, and eating soup while making a huge mess.

Dean’s eyes were glued to the hatchling with the pink wings. Castiel wasn’t sure what fascinated him so much. The bottle? The fact that the hatchling was only wearing a diaper and a little white t-shirt? Or that she looked so content even though she was doing something that was, as Dean would have put it, weird and shameful? Maybe all of the above. Whatever it was, Dean craned his neck to keep them in sight as they made their way over to the table where Gabriel was waiting. 

“All good?” Gabriel said. He was sprawled all over his side of the booth and made no attempt at moving, so Castiel gently pushed Dean into the booth first and then sat down beside him.

“I think so,” Castiel said, glancing at the menu. Before he had the chance to touch it, a waiter walked up to them.

“Can I take your order?” he asked.

Recognizing the brush of grace, Castiel looked up, not surprised in the least to recognize his brother. At least he had appeared in a clever way that wouldn’t immediately raise Dean’s attention. “Hello Samandriel.”

“Hi,” Samandriel said, exuding an odd combination of excitement and nerves. From the way he was trying not to look at a very amused Gabriel, it wasn’t hard to guess why. “What can I get you?”

“The biggest sundae on your menu,” Gabriel drawled.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “And we’ll take cheeseburgers with fries, please.” 

“Would you like a bottle for your hatchling?” Samandriel asked. “We offer them in chocolate flavor too.”

Dean’s head whipped around. 

“Not this time, thank you,” Castiel said, struggling not to smile. Gabriel had no such problem, flat out grinning. It was honestly hard to tell whether Dean was horrified or intrigued by the idea.


	29. Chapter 29

Dean broke a fry in half and dropped a half in the pool of ketchup he'd dumped on his plate, watching out of the corner of his eye as, part way across the restaurant and outside of hearing distance, Castiel talked to their waiter. He didn't recognize the angel - Samandriel, was it? - but he could tell from the relaxed stance of Castiel's body that this was no random angel. This was one of Castiel's friends, which meant it was no coincidence that Samandriel had shown up after Balthazar left. 

It was kind of weird in a way. For so long, Castiel and Gabriel had been the only angels that the Winchesters could trust. But now that Michael and Lucifer were locked up, angels were popping out of the woodwork left and right like nothing had happened. The show of support had to feel nice to Castiel and Gabriel, because Dean knew damn well that there were plenty of times during the Apocalypse when the two of them had been lonely and could have used some extra help. 

But still. He wasn't sure how he felt about more angels hanging around. Especially not now when he knew that they all looked at him and saw a baby. He frowned down at his plate, pushing at the fry on his plate until it was so coated with ketchup that it dissolved into mush. Besides, the Winchesters didn’t have a very good reputation in heaven. Not that long ago, they’d been number one on the angelic hit list – and so had Castiel, thanks to his affiliation with them. Had that all been forgiven that easily? Or were some of these angels just waiting for the chance to get some revenge?

He licked the ketchup off his fingers and looked in Castiel's direction again, vaguely noticing that the hatchling he’d spent most of the meal watching was now walking out of the restaurant with her parental angel. She was carrying a doll and seemed perfectly happy to be sucking on a pacifier as she cuddled up under the angel’s arm. As she walked past, he saw that her fluffy pink wings had been dyed purple and blue in a couple different places – though the splotchy nature of the dye job suggested it hadn’t been on purpose.

That was interesting for reasons Dean wasn’t willing to examine that closely, but he was too preoccupied with Castiel to care. He tensed a little when Samandriel stepped closer to Castiel. Samandriel was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the staff: a long-sleeved white shirt, black pants, black shoes, and a dorky striped apron that matched the dorkier striped hat. It would be way too easy for an angel blade to be concealed in the sleeve of that shirt. Castiel would never see it coming.

Something cold touched Dean’s cheek. Startled, he turned to see that Gabriel was leaning over the table and offering him a heaping spoonful of ice cream and hot fudge sauce. Dean blinked at the offering in confusion, and when he went to open his mouth to accept he realized that while he was watching Castiel, he’d gone from licking his fingers to sucking and chewing on them. He slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, wincing when he automatically flexed them and the abraded on his knuckles skin stung. Before he could say a word, Gabriel popped the spoon in his mouth and touched his hand to heal the slight damage.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Gabriel said quietly. He scooped up another spoonful of ice cream, this time chocolate ice cream with caramel sauce, and held it out as he added, “Nothing’s going to happen to your daddy. Samandriel is an old friend of his.”

Dean frowned, flexing his fingers again, and swallowed the first mouthful. “Anna was your friend too.”

“She was, but now there’s no brainwashing going on upstairs. I made sure of that.” There was a funny twist to Gabriel’s mouth as he fed Dean the second spoonful of ice cream. “Samandriel is perfectly safe, I promise. Shopping isn’t really Balthazar’s thing, and Samandriel was hanging around today anyway to provide extra back-up just in case.”

“In case of what? Demons? Or angels?” Dean asked, turning his head away from a third spoonful. His stomach felt funny. “’Cause I can’t imagine there’s very many angels who were happy about this.” 

“First of all, your daddy wouldn’t care about that. Second of all, while there are a few of Raphael’s minions flying around who aren’t happy, for the most part no one really cares about you anymore. I’m sorry to say you’re old news as far as heaven is concerned, darlin’.”

“Good,” Dean muttered. “But – still –”

“Cassie isn’t going to leave you,” Gabriel said, cutting straight through to the heart of the matter. His voice was firm but not unkind. “He rebelled against heaven for you once before. He wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”

“But _why_?” That was the crux of the matter, the thing that Dean still didn’t understand, and he stared at Gabriel with pleading eyes.

Gabriel sighed and set his spoon down. “Dean, until Castiel met you, he was a good little soldier. He never questioned anything. Saving you from hell… even just touching your soul… it was his first real brush with humanity. That’s not to say he hadn’t visited Earth before. But it’s one thing to visit Earth and something else entirely to encounter something that _changes_ you. Something that’s unique, whether it’s good or bad, that makes you realize that existence isn’t just about unquestioning faith.” Gabriel sounded a little wistful.

“That’s what raising you from hell did. And the more time Cassie spent around you and your brother, the more he started to realize that maybe doing what you’re told isn’t always the answer. You taught him about free will, remember? Angels weren’t born knowing that. Can you imagine what it’s like to go from knowing that your only goal in life is follow orders, to all of a sudden having to make your own decisions about everything?”

“No,” Dean whispered, even though he sort of could. He sure hadn’t handled it well after Sam left for Stanford and John took off to go hunting by himself. For the first time in his life, he had no one to look after and no one dictating his life. If it hadn’t been for Bobby, Dean might have drank himself to death during those first couple of weeks. He couldn’t begin to imagine that on the magnified scale that Castiel had gone through.

There was a knowing look on Gabriel’s face, like he knew what Dean was thinking. He probably did. “Through all that change, you were the one thing that stayed constant. Castiel wanted to protect you. Not because he had to, but because he _wanted_ to. This is just one more way for him to do that. You’re safe, you’re loved, and you’re becoming an angel. You already have a profound bond, but this will make it a hundred times stronger. Not to mention, it gives him something to focus on and some control. Why _wouldn’t_ he want this with you?”

Dean was speechless. It was like he’d lost the ability to form words. He’d never thought about it like that before. It made sense that, in light of all that turmoil and God’s abandonment, Castiel would latch on to something. But he could have chosen a lot better than Dean. Sam, for example, was a worthier target for all this than Dean could ever be – though he and Castiel didn’t share that whole ‘profound bond’ that seemed so important. Maybe it was just Castiel’s bad luck that he’d been sent to save Dean and not someone better.

“By Father, you’re a stubborn one,” Gabriel said in exasperation. He stood up, pushing away the remains of his sundae. Most of it had been demolished, which was amazing considering that it had started out as a masterpiece of forty different flavors of ice cream, half a dozen different kinds of sauce, and at least twenty cherries. Plus peanuts and whipped cream.

Across the restaurant, Castiel’s head turned. He said something to Samandriel and then walked back to them. “What’s going on?”

“Your baby’s too thickheaded for his own good,” Gabriel said, grabbing the handle of the stroller.

“I am not,” Dean protested, pouting. Gabriel had left a cherry behind. Just for that comment, he grabbed it, popping it into his mouth and sucking the juice from his fingers.

Castiel looked like he was trying not to laugh. “How about we visit the toy store?” he suggested, picking up one of the hand wipes that every restaurant offered. He ripped it open and took Dean’s hand, cleaning it quickly, then gently tugged Dean’s right fingers out of his mouth to clean those too. 

The toy store. In spite of himself, Dean was intrigued. Every once in a while, usually in the towns where they stopped overnight and weren’t around long enough for anyone to remember them, he and Sam used to find a toy store and walk through just to admire the shelves. When Sam was really little, they used to play a game: what toys would each of them get if their dad won the lottery? It was fun to imagine, and Sam always smiled so big when he got caught up in the fantasy. But after he grew up a little more and started wanting to know why they never actually bought the toys, it stopped being fun. 

Remembering that, that look on Sam’s face when Dean told him they couldn’t buy any toys, Dean caught Castiel’s hand. “I have enough toys,” he whispered. He had coloring books, and his bee, and he was pretty sure there were other toys around that Castiel hadn’t shown him yet.

Both angels frowned and exchanged a glance. It was Castiel who spoke. “Dean, I told you when we first went to the nest that I hadn’t bought many toys for you. I wanted you to be able to pick them out yourself.”

“But I don’t –”

“Why don’t we go see?” Gabriel suggested. “We can just walk through.”

It sounded suspiciously similar to what he and Sam used to do, but Dean nodded anyway and got up. He didn’t let go of Castiel’s hand as they walked out of the restaurant, Gabriel following right behind them with the stroller. The toy store was all the way at the other end of the strip mall. It wasn’t a long walk, but there was a crowd, and a lot of angels kept looking at them – specifically Gabriel. Dean flinched every time he noticed the attention and wished that he was back in the stroller. It was babyish and embarrassing, but he was tired and at least no one would be able to see him then.

Castiel wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked through the door of the toy shop. It was the biggest store yet, with aisles stretching back as far as Dean could see. Unlike most toy stores, it wasn’t divided into a girl section and a boy section. Instead, it seemed to be divided by age: hatchling, younger nestling, older nestling. And it was _packed_. Dean looked around in disbelief, shocked by the sight of so many angels and nestlings and hatchlings in one place. He couldn’t help shrinking back a little.

“It’s okay,” Castiel murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “If you get too overwhelmed, we can go home."

"I'm fine," Dean said, not wanting the shopping trip to end prematurely just because he couldn't handle a crowded store, and forced himself to take a step forward. The least crowded section of the store was the hatchling section, unsurprisingly. There were lots of toys. Dean ignored most of them, choosing instead to glance at the wall of stuffed animals. Every imaginable animal, and a few he'd never seen before, was available.

"Go ahead. Pick a couple out," Castiel said.

"I don't -"

"I know you don't _need_ them, baby. That's not the point."

Dean looked back at the stuffed animals. Part of him wanted to just leave the store, because this was all for babies. The last several weeks aside, he hadn't slept with a stuffed animal for years. But he had to admit that there was something very comforting about his bee, and it wasn't just because it contained a speck of his daddy's grace. Before the attack, the bee had actually been enough to soothe him back to asleep after a handful of nightmares. He'd drift off rubbing his cheek against the soft, fuzzy body.

He found himself staring intently at a white fox. He knew he didn't want a dog - he still had dreams of the hellhounds - or a cat. But the fox was awfully cute. It had a black nose, big blue eyes, and pink fur on the insides of its triangular ears and the tip of its long, bushy tail, as well as a pink bow around its neck. The fur was a little longer than that of his bee - extra long on the tail and ears - and he knew that it would feel really good against his face and hands.

After a moment, during which Dean tried to make himself look away and failed, Castiel stepped forward and reached for the fox. He turned to Dean and held it out. Dean stared at the ground, trying to ignore it, but then Castiel gently pushed the fox against his chest and he could _almost_ feel it through his shirt. He couldn't help himself. Embarrassing tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed onto the fox, pressing his face against the white body to block out the world around him.


	30. Chapter 30

The fox's fur was just as soft against his face as Dean had expected it to be. He squeezed his eyes shut to stall the flow of tears, tensing a little when unexpected arms wrapped around him. But, recognizing his daddy, he quickly relaxed and leaned into Castiel's warmth. The whole day had just been so overwhelming and, when paired with everything else that had happened, he didn't know how to handle it. 

This was the sort of shopping trip he kind of remembered doing with Mary, the sort he'd always wanted to be able to do with Sam, and it was playing havoc with his emotions.

"Shh, little one. It's okay," Castiel murmured into his ear, his hand petting Dean's hair. "Every little kid deserves to have toys, Dean. And I'm sorry that you and Sam didn't get to have any the first time around. That wasn't right, and if I could change it I would. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't get to have any now. Sam would want you to have them. You know that."

And the weird thing was, Dean could think whatever he wanted but he did know that. Sam could be selfish sometimes, but there was no doubt in his mind that if he picked up the phone and called Sam right now, Sam would be really happy for him. Somehow that made the whole situation a little easier to handle. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with one hand, holding onto the fox with the other, then looked up at Castiel. 

"I like this fox, Daddy," he said softly.

Castiel smiled at him. "Then we'll get it. Do you see any other stuffed animals you like?"

Dean looked past him, back at the array of stuffed animals on the wall. He kept leaning into Castiel as he examined them and finally picked out three more: a turtle with a bright blue shell, a yellow bunny with floppy ears, and a big, fat teddy bear with dark fur and blue eyes that reminded him of his daddy. The bear was even bigger than the pillows on his bed at home, at least half as tall as he was, and it looked like a really comfortable place to curl up for a nap.

"Good choice," Castiel said, picking the three toys off the wall. The bear was so big he couldn't even stuff it under one arm, and Dean bit his lip to hold in a giggle. 

"Are we going home now?" he asked.

"No, Dean. There are lots more toys that we can look at first. Let's just get a cart, okay? And then we'll keep looking."

"Okay," Dean said, even though he didn't think he needed any more toys than what he'd already picked out. He trailed after his daddy, still carrying the fox, and refused to set it down in the cart. She was solid and comforting in his arms, and he liked knowing that he could hide behind her at any point if he needed to.

It had been years since Dean bothered going into a toy store. He was amazed at just how many toys there were once he and Castiel started walking down the aisles. Everything from Barbie's to toy soldiers to remote controlled helicopters to sidewalk chalk... the sheer quantity to choose from was astonishing. And overwhelming. He really didn't know what to pick, especially since he couldn't understand any of the prices. They were written in Enochian. What if he picked things that were too expensive?

But he didn't voice that fear to Castiel, because he suspected he already knew what the answer would be. Instead, he looked at everything there was and then went back to the aisle where the Lego sets were. There were at least fifty different sets, but he liked the one that was designed to build a wild west saloon. He picked it up with one hand, looking at the little cowboy figures.

"You like that one?" Castiel asked.

"Yes please."

"Put it in the cart," Castiel told him. As Dean obeyed, Castiel picked out several more of the sets and added them to the cart as well. Then he said, "When you were younger, you had a race car track that you loved. They still make them, you know."

Dean's first reaction was to ask how Castiel knew that, but he managed to stop himself. This was the angel who had saved him from hell and, in the process, watched all of his memories. Of course Castiel remembered what kind of toys he'd played with as a child. He settled for looking down at the floor and nodding, because that race car track had been one of his favorite toys and he'd spent hours watching the cars go around the track while his parents bickered in the kitchen.

It turned out that Castiel wasn't lying. They did still make the tracks, but they were way more elaborate than Dean remembered them being. Instead of just a big circle, there were loops and double circles and twisty tracks. Some were customizable, so that the tracks could be connected to make them as big as you wanted. And the cars were way cooler. There was even a little Impala, though it was red instead of black.

From there, Dean just watched the pile of toys in the cart get bigger. He couldn't even find it in himself to complain when Castiel ventured into the hatchling section and picked out several toys that looked like they were for babies. He just stood by and silently held his fox and the little red Impala, looking at the cart in awe. This was the culmination of so many fantasies he'd had as a kid and it was _awesome_. Castiel even managed to find some older toys, like a Light Brite and some slinkies.

He had no idea when he was going to have the time to play with so many toys. As Castiel looked over some bath toys, Dean sat down on a blue chair that sank a little under his weight and held his fox on his knee. There was still a lot of other angels and nestlings in the store and there wasn't a lot of air, and the noise and the brightly colored toys were starting to make his head hurt again. He suddenly just really wanted a few quiet minutes where he could cuddle with Castiel.

Something tickled the back of his neck. Dean swatted at it absently, still watching his daddy. It tickled him again. He turned his head, annoyed, and jumped when he saw Gabriel grinning at him. "Uncle Gabriel, stop," he whined, the words falling out automatically.

Gabriel's eyebrows rose, surprise momentarily flashing over his face, before he recovered. "What's the matter, honey? Are you getting tired?"

"I'm fine," Dean said, embarrassed, and glanced over at Castiel to make sure that he was still there and okay. "Where have you been?"

"I was talking to one of the managers of the store. I had to order a few surprises," Gabriel replied, following Dean's gaze. "I see you and your daddy have made a dent in the store."

"Yeah. There's lots of toys to pick from." Dean rubbed at his eyes again.

"Too many. I think someone needs a nap."

"Do not," Dean said, glaring at him. 

"Oh really? So you're not sleepy at all?"

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head, because he wasn't tired. Even though the thought of being in the stroller, where it would be quiet and darker and closed off from the rest of the store, was kind of appealing right now. He didn't need a nap. Naps were for babies.

"I'll make you a deal. If you get in the stroller for five minutes and you don't fall asleep, I'll give you one of your surprises tomorrow," Gabriel said. 

"How do I know the surprise is even something I'll like?"

"I'm offended you even ask. Trust me, it's awesome and it will make your daddy very happy."

That was cheating. Castiel's happiness was very important to Dean. It was the whole reason why he'd agreed to come on this stupid shopping trip in the first place. He scowled at Gabriel, who just grinned, and finally nodded. Five minutes wasn't very long at all. He could do that no problem. 

"Perfect. C'mere, babe." Gabriel slid his hands under Dean's thighs and scooped him up easily, pivoting to the stroller and lying him down. He stayed bent over the stroller so that he could take Dean's sneakers off and tuck him in underneath a pale blue blanket that Dean didn't recognize. Once he was tucked in, Gabriel straightened up and pulled the hood of the stroller down.

Instantly the noise outside diminished, like someone had flicked the switch, and then the stroller started to move. Dean watched through the clear fabric as Gabriel walked over to Castiel. There was a moment during which the two of them communicated silently, which was annoying, and then Castiel nodded. He picked up several of the bath toys and added them to the now overflowing cart. Then Castiel started to push the stroller while Gabriel took over the cart.

Being in the stroller was very relaxing, Dean was quickly discovering. He liked knowing that no one except for Castiel and Gabriel could see him. He rolled over on his side, pulling his fox up to his chest and just watched the angels, nestlings and hatchlings they were walking by. There were so many of them, and he noticed that two or three angels were even pushing strollers like Gabriel was. Though none of those strollers, he was pleased to note, were as cool as his.

The wait at the register was very long and boring. Dean stared at the row of miscellaneous knick knacks and small toys until his eyes slipped shut. He immediately forced them open, but it was so hard to keep them that way. It would be much easier to just keep them shut. But he wanted to see what Gabriel's surprise was, especially if it would make Castiel happy. He blinked a couple of times, but it got harder and harder to open his eyes.

Maybe he could keep his eyes closed for just a minute or two until Gabriel checked, and then he could pretend he'd had them open the whole time. That was a good plan. He let his eyes slip shut again, smacking his lips sleepily, and told himself not to fall asleep. He really wasn't tired, after all. His eyes were just gritty and strained from his headache, and it felt better to give them a break. That's all.

The next thing he knew, the soothing movement of the stroller was stopping and he heard Gabriel chuckling. "Out like a light, I knew it."

"He was getting overwhelmed. I'm glad you put him down for a nap," Castiel said. The hood of the stroller cracked a little. Dean forced his eyes open when Castiel pressed something to his lips but obediently opened his mouth. The pacifier slipped in easily, settling into place against his tongue. He sucked it a couple of times, and felt more than saw a hand brush his cheek. Somehow his eyes had slipped closed again without his notice.

"The toy store was a little overwhelming. I managed to get everything, though, Cas."

"Thanks, Gabriel." The light vanished when the hood of the stroller was lowered. Dean nuzzled his fox, feeling the stroller starting to move again.

"No problem. You know, he called me Uncle Gabriel earlier."

"He might even say it again if you don't tease him about it."

"I'll think about it. Now, candy store?"

"Dean's napping. I don't think we should wake him up just to visit a candy store."

"Not for him, for me. I'm the one who's wrangled a cranky baby into a stroller _twice_ today. You should be buying me a medal at this rate."

Castiel exhaled, but he sounded amused. "Clothing first. Then candy. And then I think we should go home. It's been a long day."

"What are the chances you think he'll sleep tonight?"

"I don't know. I hope the mobile I bought will help. And if not, Rachel said the crib will be ready sometime next week."

Gabriel's response was too quiet for Dean to make out, but he didn't really care. He was comfortable and warm and he knew that his daddy was pushing the stroller and his uncle was walking right beside them. He sighed and let himself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [twitter](https://twitter.com/Tsuki_Chibi) account.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me preface this by saying I don't care what the scientists say, viva la Pluto.
> 
> The fanart in this chapter is from the amazingly talented [gabester-sketch](http://gabester-sketch.tumblr.com/). It was commissioned by [Mirenithil](http://mirenithil.tumblr.com/).

Dean slept through the clothing store and the candy store, not that Castiel tried to wake him for it. Gabriel picked up enough candy for all of them. By the time they flew back to the cabin, the sun was going down and even Castiel was fatigued, not that he would have been willing to admit it. He pushed the stroller inside the cabin and heaved a soft sigh of relief as Gabriel shut the door behind them. He hadn’t expected shopping to be so tiring. No wonder it wasn’t something that Dean or Sam liked to do very often.

“I’m going to get Dean ready for bed,” he said. They’d eaten late, so he suspected that waking Dean up to try and get him to eat something would not go well. Better to just let it go. “Can you get the mobile set up?”

Gabriel nodded and swiped the mobile out from underneath the stroller. He sat down on the couch with it. Castiel left Dean to sleep for a few more minutes while he went into the kitchen and prepared a sippy cup with juice and grace. He was beginning to run low on grace for Dean, he realized, but he didn’t have any to give. At some point soon he’d have to return to heaven to expedite the process, even though that would mean leaving Dean. There was no way to know how Dean would handle that, but chances were he wouldn’t take it well.

Putting that concern aside for now, he returned to the living room and carefully scooped Dean up out of the stroller. Dean grumbled a sleepy complaint, curling his arm around Castiel’s neck and nosing at his shoulder as Castiel carried him down the hall. Castiel shushed him and spread a plastic mat out on the bed, hoping that the changing table would be ready within the next day or so. It would be a lot easier to change Dean once the room was set up properly.

He set Dean down on the mat and took off his jeans and socks, then made quick work of removing the wet diaper, wiping him down, powdering him and putting a fresh one on. “I know, I know, you’re a tired baby boy,” he cooed when he pulled Dean into a sitting position and Dean whined. He slipped Dean’s shirt off, then pressed the sippy cup into Dean’s hands and helped him to lift it to his mouth, urging him to drink.

The taste of the orange juice and grace seemed to wake Dean up a little more. He blinked fuzzily at Castiel, looking surprised to find himself in the bedroom instead of the stroller, then slumped sideways into him and pulled his knees up against his chest. Castiel rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. He hoped that Dean would sleep through the night instead of waking up with another nightmare, and decided that he would sleep with Dean tonight. The bed was easily big enough for the two of them.

Gabriel wandered in a few minutes later, holding the mobile. It was adorable. It had all nine planets dangling around the sun, and in between each planet was an asteroid, a comet or a meteor. The underside of the part that held it all together lit up with stars when switched on, and each planet glowed a different color as they spun. Rachel had assured him that it could change melodies with just a hint of grace, and as Gabriel snapped it into place over Dean’s bed, the soft tune of “Hey Jude” began to play.

“It’s perfect,” Castiel said, pleased when he craned his neck to see how it looked. Gabriel turned off the lights, and all three of them watched the mobile slowly rotate for a few minutes. Feeling the weight against his chest growing increasingly heavy, he glanced down at Dean. The baby was practically asleep already, green eyes struggling to remain fixed on the mobile.

“I got it,” Gabriel said when Castiel took the half empty cup from Dean. “You should take it easy, Cassie.”

“I’m fine.”

“You forget I can see just how fine you are,” Gabriel replied, raising an eyebrow, and swiped the cup away from him. “I take it you’re sleeping in here tonight. Go ahead. I’ll hang around.”

“I thought you had work to do.”

“They lived without me for centuries. They’ll manage for a few more hours.”

Castiel shook his head, faintly exasperated. He’d never realized that Gabriel had such a propensity for being a mother hen. “No, Gabriel. _Go_. There’s no point in you staying here if Dean and I aren’t leaving the nest, and we won’t be until tomorrow. You know that. If we need something, you know I’ll call you. But you might as well go now, and then you can enjoy the picnic without having interruptions.”

“I hate it when you make sense,” Gabriel said, making a face. “Okay, fine. I’m gone.” He vanished on the spot, taking the sippy cup with him. A moment later, Dean’s fox fell onto the bed beside them.

“He better remember to bring that back,” Castiel muttered, looking back down at Dean. There was no way he could get up without waking Dean, so he just kicked his shoes off and carefully lowered them both to the bed. Dean snuggled into him, wrapping his arms around his fox and his bee, and let out a happy sigh. It wasn’t long before both of them were asleep.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Around 4am, Dean woke up crying from another nightmare, babbling something about Alistair and the rack in between sobs. Castiel hugged him, murmuring reassurances, and then, when he realized that Dean was wet again, got up to groggily change Dean’s diaper. He turned the mobile back on before crawling back into bed, wrapping himself around Dean as best he could. It was a long time before Dean settled down enough to fall back asleep, and Castiel forced himself to stay awake to better watch over him.

Morning dawned bright and early, and with it came the distinct scent of omelets. Dean woke up as soon as the smell seeped into the room, nose twitching. He turned bright but tired eyes on Castiel and sleepily said, “Hungry, Daddy.”

“I think Uncle Gabriel is cooking breakfast,” Castiel agreed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. He was still a little tired, which was worrying, but he was able to hide it from Dean while getting him dressed. Fortunately Dean cooperated. The naps from the day before had gone a long way towards improving his mood, though he still yawned as he and Castiel walked into the kitchen.

Sure enough, Gabriel was standing at the kitchen counter packing delicious smelling containers into a basket. “Hey, sleepy heads,” he said with a grin, which faltered just a little when he caught sight of Castiel. He recovered quickly though, giving Dean’s hair a quick ruffle in greeting. 

“Breakfast?” Dean said expectantly, looking around.

“You’re gonna have to wait for it, baby boy,” Gabriel replied, snapping his fingers. The same sippy cup from last night materialized in Dean’s hands. “Your daddy and I have a fun plan for the day.”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going on a picnic,” Castiel said.

Dean paused. His nose scrunched up. “A picnic?” he repeated doubtfully, finishing the last of his juice. 

“That’s right. Do you remember Samandriel? We met him yesterday at the restaurant. I invited him to join us.”

“Why?” Dean said, looking back and forth between the two of them. His grip on the sippy cup tightened. “Is this… are we going somewhere dangerous?”

“No, Dean. We’ll be perfectly safe,” Castiel told him, taking Dean into his arms and hugging him. “I just wanted you to have the chance to meet more of my brothers and sisters. They’re not all like Zachariah and Uriel, I promise. And at some point, you’re going to be coming to heaven with me. Wouldn’t it be nice if you knew more angels than just me and Gabriel when you do?”

“I guess,” Dean mumbled, not sounding very convinced. It wasn’t surprising. So far, he didn’t have the greatest track record with angels, but Castiel wanted to change that if he could.

“It will be fun,” he said out loud, watching as Gabriel picked up the basket. It would’ve been easier to just snap up some food when they got to the lake, of course, but apparently Gabriel wanted to make the experience more authentic. His brother was nothing if not committed to the strangest things.

Gabriel stepped closer and laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulders. He spread his wings and they flew, instantly reappearing beside the small lake where Dean had gone swimming once before. As expected, even though it was early, Samandriel was already there waiting for them. His waiter’s uniform had been replaced by a pair of white and red striped swimming trunks and a thin white t-shirt. He grinned broadly when he saw them.

“Hi Cas,” he said cheerfully.

“Hello Samandriel,” Castiel said with a smile. “This is Dean. Dean, Samandriel.”

Dean openly looked Samandriel over without greeting him, mouth tipped into a frown. Castiel knew what he was doing: he was assessing Samandriel to see how much of a threat he was. Even though he was a hatchling and it wasn’t Dean’s responsibility to deal with any threats that did present themselves, it was a hunter’s instinct that Dean would never be rid of. So he remained quiet, not protesting, and Samandriel was so clearly _not_ a threat that Dean finally relented and spoke.

“I already know a Sam,” he said decisively. “So I’ll call you Alfie.”

Samandriel blinked, looking a little shocked, but Gabriel just laughed. “That was the name of your vessel, wasn’t it?”

“I, um, I guess?” Samandriel said uncertainly, looking down at his white t-shirt as though that would give him some answers. “He had a small tag with that name.”

“What happened to him?” Dean asked.

“He’s sleeping.”

“Dean,” Castiel said before Dean could press for more details. “Don’t you want to sit down and eat some breakfast? Then you can go swimming, or I heard Gabriel has a surprise for you.”

Dean’s eyes lit with interest. “The surprise?” 

“I did promise,” Gabriel said. 

“What is it?”

“Food first,” Castiel said firmly, guiding Dean over to the blanket that Samandriel had laid out. He gently pushed Dean down and followed suit. Gabriel set the basket down and pulled out a number of breakfast foods: the omelets, bacon, toast, croissants with jam and butter, sliced up fruit, and pastries for dessert, plus orange juice and milk. All of it was delicious. Dean ate quickly, seemingly not caring that he was given a sippy cup in front of Samandriel, and then turned an expectant look on Gabriel.

“Surprise?” he asked, puppy eyes in full form. “Please, Uncle Gabriel?”

Gabriel melted so quickly that Castiel had to cough to cover up a laugh. His brother pinned him with a dark look, but smiled at Dean. “Sure thing, honey. Here you go.”

He reached into the basket again and took out the last thing Castiel had expected. It was a brightly colored kite shaped like a dragon. Dean looked a little confused as he took it and turned it over, running the tail through his fingers. The string was attached to the feet, so the green tail could trail behind it. The wind – which, considering that it had just come up, was no doubt manufactured by Gabriel - buffeted the kite gently, threatening to tear it out of Dean’s hands. 

“Let go, baby,” Castiel said, and Dean obeyed, startling a little as an updraft instantly swept it out of his hands and up into the sky. Dean just barely managed to snag the wheel, stopping the kite’s ascent. Castiel tipped his head back to watch it. He’d only told Gabriel about his favored spot in heaven once, and he had to admit he was surprised his brother had remembered. But watching the kite dance gently, a brilliant spot of green and purple against the blue sky, was just as calming as ever.

When he finally looked down, Dean was watching him with a thoughtful expression. Then he smiled shyly and offered the wheel to Castiel. “Do you want to try, Daddy?”

“We can do it together.” Castiel stepped up behind him, wrapping his hands around Dean, and showed him how to let a little more string loose. The kite went a little bit higher and Dean giggled as the tail started to flap around madly. Then he gasped as two more dragons joined the first, one blue and one pink, and when he looked around, Gabriel and Samandriel were flying kites too.

It was more fun than Castiel had anticipated, watching the kites swoop amongst the clouds. So of course the moment was ruined by a familiar ringing. Dean jumped when the sound split the air, then looked over his shoulder at Castiel. Something between anticipation and worry flashed through his eyes. Castiel gave him a reassuring smile and dug in the pocket of his pants for Dean’s cell phone. He wasn’t surprised to see that the caller was Sam, and he handed the phone over to Dean while taking control of the kite.

Dean cleared his throat before he said a tentative, “Hey Sammy. What’s up?” He listened for a moment, then stiffened. A soft sound escaped him, bordering on a whimper, and Castiel quickly took the phone from his slack fingers.

“Sam?” he said, bringing the phone to his own ear. “What’s going on?”

“Cas, thank god,” Sam said, and he sounded so upset that Castiel didn’t even think to scold him for blaspheming. 

“What’s going on?” Castiel repeated calmly, letting go of the kite in order to wrap his arm around Dean. Dean twisted around, pressing his face into Castiel’s shirt.

Sam’s voice audibly cracked. “It’s Bobby, Cas. He and Rufus were out on a hunt and… and he got stabbed. The doctors don’t think he’s gonna make it. Please, you gotta come and do something.”


	32. Chapter 32

To their credit neither Castiel or Gabriel made noise about leaving Dean behind, even though he could tell that’s exactly what the two of them were thinking. Trusting Samandriel to clean up the remainder of their picnic, Gabriel laid a hand on both their shoulders and flew them to the small hospital just outside of Arcata, California where Bobby and Sam were waiting. The three of them reappeared in a waiting room which was fortunately empty of anyone else, and Dean took a step back from Castiel.

He had to be big now. Sam was scared and would need his big brother’s support, and he wasn’t ready for Sam or Bobby to know exactly what this hatchling thing entailed – would probably never be ready, really. He took a quick glance down at his clothing, but realized it was fine. The plain blue jeans and green t-shirt he was wearing didn’t look too different from what he normally wore, and though he wasn’t thrilled about the diaper underneath, Castiel hadn’t been lying when he said no one could tell. 

“Dean,” Castiel began, but before he could finish his sentence the door to the waiting room opened and a very surprised nurse looked in at them. Taking his chance, Dean slipped out past her, turned to the right, and spotted Sam immediately. His little brother was leaning against the wall just down the hall, and he looked so exhausted and upset that Dean had to swallow back a fresh bolt of fear. Maybe they were too late. He had to force himself to take a step forward.

“Sammy,” he called out, and Sam looked up with so much relief on his face that Dean found his stride, moving quickly towards him. 

“Dean! Thank god, man. The nurse just told me that I should be saying my final goodbyes,” Sam said, sounding a little frantic as he grabbed Dean’s arm. “Where’s Cas?”

“Cas can’t heal Bobby,” Dean said, glancing past Sam into the room. His stomach dropped straight through the floor at what he saw. Rufus was in the room, but Dean barely noticed him. He was too preoccupied with Bobby in the hospital bed, because it didn’t even look like him. He was too pale and too still, like he was already dead. The quiet beeping of the monitors in the room suggested otherwise, but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Bobby. It was like looking at Castiel’s body on the ground all over again, and it was such a toss up between bursting into tears and throwing up that Dean just froze.

Sam’s voice pulled him back. “What do you mean, Cas can’t heal Bobby? Why the hell not?”

“I was stabbed not long ago, and my grace isn’t back to normal levels yet. I don’t have enough to heal Bobby. But Gabriel is here to help,” Castiel said, stepping up behind Dean. “Don’t worry, Sam.”

“Gabriel?” Sam mouthed, confusion momentarily overtaking his grief and worry. His frown deepened as Gabriel sauntered past them, Gabriel pausing just long enough to toss an arm around Sam’s shoulders and draw him into the room as well. Sam went willingly enough, and Castiel set a hand against Dean’s lower back and took him aside, just a bit, so that Sam wouldn’t see them. With his view of Bobby obscured, Dean blinked and found himself looking at his daddy’s concerned face instead.

“It’s okay, little one. You’re okay, Bobby’s going to be okay, it’s all fine,” he said very softly, the words meant for Dean alone. He set his free hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It wasn’t quite a hug, but a couple steps closer would’ve made it one. Steps that Dean forbid himself to take. He took a deep breath and held it until the urge to cry faded. 

“I know,” he said finally, and it came out a little too quivery for his liking. Sam would definitely know something was wrong if he kept acting like this. He had to pull it together. He made himself take a step back from Castiel instead of forward, pretending that he didn’t notice the frown that flitted across the angel’s face. 

“Cassie, kiddo, come on,” Gabriel called from inside the room. “Unless you want to be left behind to make some explanations, let’s get a move on.”

Quickly Dean stepped around him and into the room, knowing that Castiel was right behind him. Gabriel snapped his fingers. The now familiar feeling of the world moving under and around him rolled over Dean, and he went with it. He was ready when the floor formed under him, catching his balance easily. Sam wasn’t so lucky, staggering against the bed. That woke Bobby up. He sat straight up, sputtering in confusion, and stopped dead when he saw Rufus, Sam, Gabriel, Dean and Castiel gathered around him. He looked at them, then he looked down at himself and the white hospital gown he was wearing, and scowled.

“Balls,” he muttered. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Rufus demanded. “I told you not to go on by yourself! The hell is wrong with you!”

“I woulda been fine if we’d taken the iron daggers like I wanted to,” Bobby countered. “Didja have to call the boys?”

“Calling us saved your life. Gabriel healed you,” Sam broke in.

“He did?” Bobby said, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“Community service,” Gabriel said with a straight face. “We’ll leave you to put on clothes.” He turned on his heel, dragging Sam out of the room behind him. Castiel and Dean followed, though Dean cast one last look over his shoulder before he shut the door behind him. Bobby and Rufus were already squabbling with each other in whispered tones as Bobby got off the bed.

Somehow, though Dean wasn’t sure how, he and Sam ended up in the kitchen alone. Sam opened the refrigerator and stared into it while Dean sat at the table, trying not to let his nerves show. It was really for the best that he and Sam were alone, because this way he wouldn’t be tempted to lean on Castiel or Gabriel. He could totally act normal around his brother. All that baby stuff had just been for Castiel’s benefit; it wasn’t like Dean really wanted or needed it. He would just act like nothing was different.

“Here,” said Sam, slamming a beer down in front of him. “There’s literally nothing else edible in that thing. I have no idea when Bobby last cleaned it, but it may have been before we were born.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Dean said slowly, staring at the bottle of beer. This was actually the first time he’d even thought about alcohol in weeks. It was something he’d missed at first, especially when Castiel was going overboard with the baby thing, but gradually it had slipped his mind. Water, juice, milk and the occasional mug of hot chocolate made up the bulk of his drinking needs now – most of them in sippy cups, but probably soon (if Castiel had his way) in a different kind of bottle. He willed his face not to burn.

“Something wrong with it?” Sam asked, easily twisting the cap off of his.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Would his daddy be mad if he drank a beer? It wasn’t really meant for little kids… Dean shook his head a little, frustrated at himself for even thinking something so ridiculous, and resolutely cracked his beer open. He put the bottle to his lips and drank. It burned as he swallowed, the taste familiar yet at the same time not what he remembered, and he had to struggle to not make a face as he set it back down.

“So what the hell happened to Cas?” Sam asked, not beating around the bush. He sounded kind of pissy, and yup that was definitely a bitchface. “He got stabbed and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like I kept it from you on purpose, Sam. We were attacked by demons a couple weeks ago and one of them stabbed him with his angel blade.” Dean scratched at the label on the beer bottle, determinedly not thinking about Castiel’s still body. “It was… Hectic. And it’s been a pretty slow recovery. I don’t think angels regain grace that fast when they’re on Earth, so he’s been taking it easy.”

“Then he should go up to heaven for a little while.”

“What?” Dean looked up at him in surprise.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Uh, heaven? You know that place where angels come from? If he went back for a couple of nights he’d be healed, right?”

“Yeah… But…”

“But nothing, dude. You should stop being so selfish. Cas has put himself on the line countless times for us. And now he’s offered to make you an angel. You know what our reputation is like up amongst the angels. And yeah, you guys had your profound bond and whatever already, but I doubt this looks good for him. The least you can do is step aside and let him go up to heaven and get healed.”

Dean stared at the bottle of beer and furiously told himself not to cry. He didn’t dare blink, knowing the panic would overwhelm him if he did. He could hardly stand to let Castiel go in the other room without freaking out. The only way it was even a little bearable was if Gabriel was with him, but Castiel would never agree to leaving Dean alone. And he couldn’t imagine staying with Balthazar or Samandriel. So how was he supposed to let his daddy go up to heaven alone? What if the other angels attacked him, or a demon? What if Castiel decided he liked it better in heaven and ended up not coming back? 

His nails made a soft sound against the glass and he realized his hands were shaking. He quickly curled them into fists before Sam could see. Sam was right. He had to stop being selfish. Castiel’s grace wasn’t coming back as fast as it was supposed to. He was still in pain sometimes, even if he made an effort to hide that from Dean, and that was the last thing that Castiel deserved after how much he had sacrificed for both the Winchesters. He had to stop being such a baby.

“You’re right,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. His breathing was a little funny, and he hoped Sam wouldn’t notice. “I never thought of that.”

Sam shrugged. “It just makes sense, that’s all. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone already, to be honest. Guess it’s going better than I thought it would between you guys.” He half-smiled, but that did little to take the sting out of the implication: that Sam had had so many doubts about this, thinking that Dean would give up, or that Castiel would reject him.

“What, you didn’t think I’d make a good angel?” Dean said, trying to turn it into a joke, and Sam snorted.

“To be honest, I don’t think either of us would.”

“But would you do it?” Dean asked him. “If D – Cas had asked you?” Oh god. That slip up had been too close for comfort. His heart was racing.

“I’d think about it, sure. But I guess I’d have to know more about it. What’s it like? I mean _really_ like.” Sam leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “Does he really treat you like a little kid?”

And, okay, Dean was officially unequipped to be handling this right now. He shot to his feet, accidentally bumping the table with his hip. Sam jumped and swore as both beer bottles tipped over, sending a flood of beer across the table into Sam’s lap. Dean might have mumbled an apology, but staging a hasty retreat before he started to cry was far more important. Between seeing Bobby on the verge of death, the possibility of Castiel going back to heaven and Sam’s way too probing questions, he needed a few seconds.

The nice thing about Bobby’s house was that it was pretty easy to get away. Dean stumbled out onto the porch and sagged against the railing when his legs felt too weak to keep holding him up. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that refused to be held back any longer, sucking in a shuddery gasp that did little to ease the constricting grip of his lungs. He startled badly when hands touched his shoulders, rearing back frantically, until the soothing sound of Castiel’s voice permeated his panic.

“Dean, look at me, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” Castiel said. Once he was sure he had Dean’s attention, he hugged Dean tightly. Dean choked back a sob and clung to him desperately. He’d been so sure he could handle a frigging conversation with Sam, but it turned out that he couldn’t even do that without crying like a baby.

What the hell was he gonna do if Castiel decided to go back to heaven for good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will no update next week, just so you guys know in advance.


	33. Chapter 33

Easily one of the most frustrating things about hatchlings or nestlings was that Gabriel couldn’t punish them trickster style. He was used to a world of instant gratification where assholes got punished instantly – and a good percentage of the time, Gabriel was the one meting out the punishment. Or justice, as he preferred to call it. But whatever name you opted to use, he couldn’t just snap his fingers and punish a nestling or a hatchling when they misbehaved. 

No, when Dean acted out – and that was going to be inevitable at some point, though judging from the terrified thoughts running through Dean’s head right now about Castiel leaving, it would be a while yet before they had to worry about that – it would be up to Castiel to punish him. Not that Gabriel would ever really want to punish Dean anyway. The kid had an infuriatingly impressive set of puppy eyes that made Gabriel melt every time he saw them. It was pure luck that Dean hadn’t figured it out yet and started using it to his advantage. 

The problem was that Sam wasn’t a nestling. Not yet, anyway. He was still 100% human no matter how often Dean teased him about being part sasquatch. But as Gabriel popped into the kitchen and watched Sam mop helplessly at the beer stain on his shirt and jeans, it didn’t _feel_ that way. He was already way too attached to the damn kid, and it didn’t help when Sam looked up with a wide eyed expression of surprise that somehow managed to look way too innocent.

At that moment, Gabriel was annoyingly aware of just how much he wanted to take Sam away and hide him somewhere safe until he could wipe away the exhaustion and stress that was building underneath Sam’s masks. Sam wasn’t quite as bad off as Dean had been, mostly because he was clinging so tightly to the dream of finishing law school that there wasn’t any room for him to fall apart the way his brother had, but it was inevitable. He would crash and burn hard at some point. 

Damn Winchesters. How was it that they always managed to change Gabriel’s mind? Castiel was never going to let him hear the end of this. Not that Gabriel was really ready for that yet. He was perfectly fine playing uncle to Dean for the time being. But when Dean eventually realized that becoming an angel meant that Sam would be left behind – yeah. Gabriel could already picture himself admitting to some stuff that, until now, he’d pointedly not been thinking about. Suddenly he really wanted to bang his head against the wall.

“Need some help?” Gabriel asked when the silence became too heavy for his liking, crossing his arms. He told himself that it didn’t matter for right now, because Sam was still in law school and nothing would happen for another couple of years at least. Teaching the boy a lesson in the short term was definitely something he could cope with.

“Are you offering?” Sam asked warily, throwing the cloth back in the sink. He pulled his wet shirt away from his stomach with a grimace.

By way of response Gabriel snapped his fingers, instantly removing the stain and drying Sam’s clothes. He also removed the puddle of beer from both the table and the floor. “That was a freebie, but the next time you say something like that to your brother, a beer stain will be the least of your concerns.”

Sam actually blinked in confusion, glancing back at the table as though just realizing that Dean was gone. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, do the words ‘you need to stop being so selfish’ ring a bell?” And, okay, maybe he sounded a little pissed off, but it was well deserved. “Dean is already having a hard time with this, Sam. He might not come right out and say it to you, but this isn’t easy. He’s struggling enough as it is. The last thing he needs is you telling him that he’s going to fail somehow. You’re just making it worse.” 

“That’s not what I meant!” Sam protested.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because that’s sure as hell what it sounded like.”

“No, I just –” Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair and groaned. “I meant… Dean is always like this. Always. He starts something and then he gets scared and backs off and it ends up ruined, and Cas always ends up leaving, and I just - I don’t want that to happen again. You think I can’t tell the difference between how Dean is now and the last time I saw him? He’s so much better now. Believe me, I just want him to commit to the situation fully so that he can keep Cas’s interest.”

The kind of comment could have easily been taken as another insult. But being around Dean during the past few months had taught Gabriel an awful lot about reading between the lines. He didn’t really agree with Sam’s assessment that Dean was always the one to back off, but he knew exactly where this was coming from. Gabriel’d had the urge to raise John Winchester from the dead just so that the man could be killed again repeatedly, but it was exceptionally strong right now.

“Cassie isn’t going to lose interest,” Gabriel said as patiently as he could. What the hell was in all of the books about the nestling process? He’d known that the information available was sketchy at best, but either the books needed a serious overhaul or Sam had been looking in the wrong places. “It’s not like that, Sammy. This isn’t the kind of thing you do halfway. It’s all or nothing, especially when it comes to your brother. Cas isn’t going anywhere, okay?”

“But he’s an angel, and he always left before,” Sam said. 

“He didn’t have anything keeping him here then,” Gabriel replied, but he could tell that Sam didn’t really believe him. The brothers differed in that Dean believed he was the thing that drove everyone away in the end, whereas Sam understood that sometimes people just left because they had to. It was probably where he’d found the confidence to go to Stanford in the first place. But apparently, they were the same in that they thought they would end up alone.

He took a step closer to Sam and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, the rest of his anger fading away when Sam unconsciously swayed into the touch. It took less than a second to fly them both to the porch, where Castiel was hugging and comforting Dean. Castiel gave them both a hard look when they arrived, and Gabriel reached out to him instinctively. Later, Castiel would get the chance to scold Sam for not being more careful with what he said if he wanted to. Right now, Sam needed to see this.

Castiel frowned at them, but turned back to Dean. “It’s okay, Dean,” he repeated, gently rubbing his arms up and down Dean’s back. Dean squirmed a little, and Castiel shushed him and - though Dean and Sam couldn’t see it - wrapped both of his wings around Dean. It was one of the most intimate things an angel could do. Dean, Gabriel couldn’t help noticing, went lax and curled into the comfort of the wings like he was made for it.

“Not,” Dean managed to choke out. He was shaking, and when he lifted his head a little there were tears streaming down his face.

“Not what, baby?” Castiel asked gently, and Sam sucked in a startled breath. Gabriel squeezed his shoulder in a bid to keep him quiet, even though the two of them couldn’t be seen or heard. Dean would throw a fit if he knew his brother was standing here watching him act this way. And there were some things that Sam shouldn’t know about. But this – this was important.

Dean shook his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was something he’d started doing in the last couple of days when he was tired or overwhelmed or just didn’t want to talk and wanted his pacifier, though he didn’t seem aware that he was doing it. Normally it would’ve had Castiel or Gabriel giving him a pacifier immediately, but in this case that was definitely not going to happen. And when Dean started to lift his hand, most likely intending to use his thumb as a stand in, Castiel caught his hand and held it to stop him.

“Dean, listen to me. Do you remember when we had a talk at the restaurant?” Castiel asked him, using his free hand to catch Dean’s chin and tip his head up until their eyes made contact. He waited until Dean shakily nodded before continuing. “Everything I said that day is still true now. You shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed for not being ready to see Sam and Bobby. If it weren’t for what happened, we wouldn’t be here.”

“B-but… Daddy… y-you…” Dean stumbled over the words, eyes wide and wet, but Castiel understood and kissed his forehead.

“I know. I was going to talk to you tonight about the possibility of me going back to heaven. I was going to break it to you more gently.” He didn’t sound happy, and Sam winced. “It would only be for a little while, and if you needed me I would come right back.”

“And… Uncle Gabriel?”

“He would stay here with you,” Castiel said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not comfortable with anyone else, and I wouldn’t trust you and Balthazar not to get into a fight.” His mouth quirked into a faint smile. “I’ll be okay, little one. There aren’t many of Raphael’s supporters left, and none of them would dare to do anything. I will have all of my brothers and sisters around if something happens. Besides, I won’t be there for long.”

Dean went quiet, exhaling with a quiet whimper, but the way he grabbed onto the front of Castiel’s shirt spoke volumes. 

“I will come back, Dean. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it.” He wiped the tears from Dean’s eyes and hugged him, rocking him back and forth. Dean was stiff at first but quickly melted into the hug. “Daddy will come back, and we’ll finish our picnic, and you and Samandriel can have a nice swim in the lake together. Maybe we can even convince Uncle Gabriel to make real ice cream, would you like that?”

Gabriel didn’t stick around for Dean’s hesitant nod, sensing the onslaught of crying that was about to occur. He flew Sam upstairs instead of back to the kitchen, because Bobby and Rufus had relocated there. Sam stumbled away as soon as Gabriel released his shoulder, sinking down onto the guest bed. He sat there for a moment, staring vacantly at the ground, before he looked up at Gabriel, who didn’t miss the fact that the surprised look on Sam’s face was tinted with a hint of wistfulness.

“I’ve never seen Dean act like that before,” he said finally.

“I don’t think Dean was ever given the chance to,” Gabriel said as tactfully as possible, which probably wasn’t very tactful at all considering he was still thinking about smiting John Winchester. “It’s not your fault, Sam, and you can’t change what happened now. But you _can_ be more supportive. Dean already thinks that Cassie’s gonna leave him. He doesn’t need you telling him that will happen, or worse that there’s something Dean might or might not do that will seal the deal.”

Sam winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” He trailed off. “Cas really loves him.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“You too?”

Pinned by Sam’s hazel eyes, Gabriel couldn’t lie. “He’s my nephew. Of course I love him.”

“I didn’t think angels were capable of that,” Sam muttered, more to himself. He sighed. “Do I want to know why you called Dean a hatchling instead of a nestling?”

“I think you can guess,” Gabriel replied sternly. “I hope I don’t have to tell you that’s very private information right now. Dean isn’t ready for you to know. I only showed you that so you would understand that Cas isn’t going to leave and Dean is trying his best. If you say _one word_ , Sam Winchester –”

“I won’t!” Sam said quickly, holding his hands up. “I won’t, I swear.”

Gabriel studied him, trying to assess how honest he was being. “I mean it, Sam. Not one word. I’m not above taking you over my knee as punishment.”

The idea seemed to leave Sam flabbergasted. He stared at Gabriel, mouth open, and could only manage a squeak of affirmation. Gabriel just smirked at him, pleased that Sam was taking his warning seriously, and impulsively reached out to ruffle Sam’s hair. That brought him back to life, and Sam sputtered indignantly as he reached up to bat Gabriel’s hands away. It was easy to sidestep the flimsy blows, and instinct drove him to pull Sam into a warm hug that had Sam stilling instantly.

“Gabriel?” he asked, sounding confused and a little hesitant and way too young.

“S’okay, Sammy,” Gabriel said, pressing his cheek to the top of Sam’s head. Sam relaxed surprisingly quickly and even brought his arms up to tentatively return the hug. Gabriel closed his eyes, holding in a resigned sigh. Oh yeah. He could see how this was gonna end someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to reiterate that Gabriel will not be taking Sam as a nestling during Hatchling. The focus will remain on Cas and Dean. I'll be writing a one-shot at some point that deals with Gabe and Sam.


	34. Chapter 34

It was several minutes before Dean's tears slowed to a stop. Castiel held him the whole time, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances, and then, trusting that they wouldn’t be disturbed, continued to hold him until Dean had settled down completely. He suspected that what Dean really needed was a nap, because it had been an overwhelming day, and if they had been at home in the nest Castiel wouldn't have hesitated to put him in the stroller and take him for a walk until his little boy conked out for a while.

Unfortunately they were at Bobby's house, and there was no way in hell Dean would allow that to happen. Just like there was no way Dean would want to leave before he at least had supper with Sam, Bobby and Rufus. And though Castiel could've probably coaxed him into going, he didn't really want to. If Sam could learn to keep his mouth shut, it would be good for Dean to spend more time with his family. After all, family had always been the most important thing in the world to Dean.

With that thought in mind, Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's forehead for one last kiss and then took a reluctant step back to look at him. Dean's eyes were swollen and rimmed with red from crying. His face was pale and blotchy, which made his freckles stand out, and he was chewing on his bottom lip. He looked very little and very fragile. Castiel put a thumb to his chin and gently tugged his lower lip free, frowning when he noticed how reddened and raw the flesh was. 

"Don't do that, baby boy," he said softly, frustrated at himself for not even having enough grace to heal something so small. "You're hurting yourself. I know you can't have your pacifier right now, but that’s not a good substitute."

"I don't need one," Dean said immediately, drawing himself up. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking quickly, which only served to make him look even younger. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that Dean had no idea just how close he'd come to sucking his thumb in front of his brother in lieu of a pacifier. In spite of all of his protests, Dean had taken to pacifiers exceptionally quickly. It seemed to give him a lot of comfort to have something solid in his mouth. If he was upset or crying, sucking furiously on a pacifier almost always helped to calm him down. But it would be a cold day in hell before Dean ever admitted it.

He forewent saying anything about it, because if he pushed the issue it would be just like Dean to start refusing the pacifier out of pride, instead smoothing Dean's hair back from his forehead. "Do you think you're ready to go back inside now?"

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, rubbing his eyes again. "Are you - what are you doing?"

"I'd like to spend some time with Sam too. So I'll come with you, if that's okay," Castiel replied. It was obvious that Dean wanted to be independent. He wanted to pretend that he was still the same hunter who could take everything in stride by locking it all up deep inside. But he wasn't. His emotions were way too close to the surface now to be ignored, and even without the grace Dean had been getting used to actually feeling things. Like a real human infant, his first instinct when upset, stressed, frightened or angry was to cry. Sam had been thoroughly warned, no doubt, but that didn't mean everything would go smoothly.

"Okay," Dean said slowly. He turned towards the door and Castiel followed, both of them walking through the living room and back into the kitchen. Bobby and Rufus were already in there; Rufus was sitting at the table nursing a beer while Bobby slathered mayonnaise and butter on some slices of bread that had seen better days. Dean made a face when he saw what Bobby was doing and Bobby scowled at him.

"Don't say a word, idjit. Ya wanna eat, this is what I got."

"I'm not so sure I do. Sam's right, when was the last time you went shopping?" Dean asked.

"I got a little busy with some hunts," Bobby said, slapping the two pieces of bread together without putting anything else in between. It didn't look very appealing. A thick glob of mayonnaise was oozing down the crust, and when it hit the floor with a wet sound everyone stared at it silently. Then Dean cleared his throat.

"Where's Un - Gabriel? He can bring us something."

"You expect an archangel to be your errand boy?" Rufus asked skeptically.

"If you ask nicely," Castiel said. He reached out with his grace while ushering Dean over to the table. As they took a seat, Gabriel popped into the room. One arm was draped around a rather surprised Sam's shoulders, while the other held a large stack of pizza boxes that smelled divine. 

"Pizza!" Dean's eyes lit up. "Thanks Un - um, Gabriel."

"No problem, kiddo," Gabriel said, slinging the boxes down on the table. "Thank your brother. He's the one who watched a documentary last night on pizza in Italy. I will admit it’s pretty fabulous, but there are way better places than the one you were thinking about, Sam."

“I told you to stay out of my head,” Sam said with an annoyed look as he sat down on Dean’s other side. Gabriel just smirked and took the last remaining seat between Bobby and Castiel. 

“Drinks?” he asked, snapping his fingers. Bottles of high quality, Italian beer instantly materialized on the table. Bobby and Rufus and Sam looked ecstatic – Dean, not so much. Castiel watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean twisted the cap off and cautiously tasted its contents. His surprised expression made Castiel grin and Gabriel give them both a subtle wink. What was in Dean’s beer bottle might have looked like beer, but it was actually apple juice. 

“So tell us more about this hunt,” Sam said to Bobby in between bites of vegetarian pizza. “What exactly happened that you ended up getting stabbed?”

“Bobby thought it was just a random spirit,” Rufus said.

Bobby glared at him. “Yeah, well, you thought it was a werewolf.”

“What was it?” Dean asked.

“The ghost of a werewolf,” Bobby said grumpily. “Along with the witch who’d brought it back to life in the first place.”

“I hate witches,” Dean muttered, and the whole table nodded in agreement, even Castiel and Gabriel. Witches were among some of the more… annoying humans: their willingness to make a deal with hell in exchange for power never failed to puzzle Castiel.

Rufus launched into a more lengthy explanation, detailing how a couple of well-placed hex bags had nearly gotten the drop on them. But it turned out the ghost of the werewolf hadn’t been completely under the witch’s control, and it had distracted them right before they would’ve walked into the trap. Unfortunately, while Rufus was dealing with the ghost, Bobby had been left to fight the witch – and she had ample power at her disposal and a fondness for sharp knives.

“Did you take care of her?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, you take one witch down, you’ve taken them all,” Rufus replied. “She lost a lot of steam after she thought she’d killed Bobby.”

“A witch with a conscience,” Bobby said, shaking his head. He rubbed the place on his stomach where he had been stabbed and finished off his drink. Noticing that the bottles were empty, Gabriel topped them all off.

“Never thought I’d see the day. Bobby says you’re gonna be an angel,” Rufus added, looking directly at Dean. He sounded a little skeptical. “How long before you think you’ll be able to help out on hunts?”

“It will be a while,” Castiel said firmly, not giving Dean the chance to respond first because he knew what Dean would say. It had been a while since Dean had talked about going out on a hunt. But if he thought that his presence was needed, Dean would fight tooth and nail to go. And honestly, though physically Dean was in the best shape he’d ever been in, he wasn’t mentally ready to go on a hunt. He was just too little for that. 

“I could go if I had to,” Dean said with a frown, though he didn’t sound very sure. “You said… back in the beginning, if my help was really necessary –”

“But we’re supposed to be taking a break, Dean.” Surprisingly, it was Sam who cut him off. “Remember? When I said I wanted to go to Stanford, you said you’d think about taking a break from hunting too. I know you didn’t end up at Lisa’s and that’s fine.” He smiled hesitantly. “But, you know, that doesn’t mean you have to keep hunting right now. I think we did more than our fair share during the Apocalypse.”

“Agreed. The Apocalypse was more than enough for all of us,” Gabriel said, shooting Sam an approving smile. “But if hunting is getting to be too much for you two, I could ask a couple of angels to help out every now and then.”

Rufus sputtered. “We don’t need the help of no angels! That’s -”

Bobby just rolled his eyes and gave Rufus a kick in the shins to shut him up. “You boys are better off relaxing,” he said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Thank you for the offer, Dean, but there are plenty of hunters out there already. In fact, just three days ago I got a call from a couple of newbies up in Chicago. Seems they got my name from an old acquaintance and needed my help figuring out what was pinpointing a small, independent theatre. Turned out to be a vampire.”

“A pack?” Sam asked, perking up with interest. He started absently tapping his bottle on the table, causing the beer inside to slosh around.

“Nope, rogue. They took care of it pretty quickly once I clued ‘em in to take the head off,” Bobby said with satisfaction. “So I directed them to another hunt just east of where they were.”

He started talking about the hunt, but Castiel was no longer listening. He was preoccupied with watching Dean, who was squirming a little in his seat. “Dean,” he said suddenly, interrupting Bobby mid-word. “Can I talk to you for a minute in private?”

Dean nodded, his face a little pink, and stood up. Castiel didn’t miss the way he winced or how he bent over slightly as he hurried out of the kitchen, but no one else seemed to notice anything unusual except for Gabriel, who caught Castiel’s eye with a knowing look. Bobby kept right on talking as Castiel followed, not surprised to find that the bathroom door was shut. He stood outside for a moment, listening, and then when Dean was finished he knocked lightly on the door.

“It’s me. Open the door, Dean.”

It took a moment for Dean to obey, but eventually the door cracked open. Castiel picked up the diaper bag at his feet – courtesy of his brother – and slipped inside. He wasn’t surprised to find that Dean was naked from the waist down, diaper discarded on the floor, and blushing from anger or maybe embarrassment. 

“This has to stop!” he hissed as soon as Castiel was inside, recoiling from the diaper bag. “I just – I didn’t even notice I had to pee until Sam started doing that thing with his bottle. I almost pissed myself right there in front of them!”

“They wouldn’t have known,” Castiel pointed out.

“Like that makes it any better? Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t – I just – this can’t – ” Dean stumbled over his words and gave a panicked gasp for air. Castiel dropped the diaper bag and stepped closer, seizing Dean’s trembling hands. His baby was shaking all over.

“Calm down, little one. Breathe with me, okay? No one knew what was happening. This is normal. Just breathe, baby boy, there you go,” Castiel said, keeping his voice low and firm. The timing wasn’t ideal. He’d hoped that Dean would use the diapers for the first time while awake in the privacy of the nest, not where it would give him a panic attack. But at least he’d gotten Dean out of the room before it actually happened. There was only a few drops of urine on the diaper. Otherwise he would’ve had a full scale meltdown on his hands.

After a couple of minutes, when Dean didn’t seem to be calming down any, Castiel sat on the toilet seat and pulled Dean down into his lap. “Dean, listen to me. We’ve talked about this. All babies pee in their diapers. You’ve already been going at night and while you’re napping, remember? Your body is getting used to ignoring the signals. That’s all. It’s normal. No one knows what happened except me and you and Uncle Gabriel, I promise.”

Dean’s breath hitched and he whimpered softly from where his face was hidden in Castiel’s shoulder. “I don’t… I’m… I can’t… I – Daddy –”

“Shh, it’s okay to be scared. I’m right here with you. You’re not alone, my Dean,” Castiel said, rocking him back and forth. “You’re not alone.”


	35. Chapter 35

Dean could’ve used a few more minutes of being cuddled in Castiel’s lap. Having Castiel’s arms around him while Castiel whispered reassurances made everything seem like it was okay: there was no room for judgment or guilt or shame. But he was too aware of how long they could be away from the table before someone would start to wonder where they were. He didn’t want Sam, Bobby or Rufus to get too curious and come looking. So he forced himself to slide off Castiel’s knee, stand up, and wash his face and hands.

When he turned around again, Castiel had the familiar diaper bag open on the floor. Dean bit his lip. He really didn’t want to put another diaper on. It was humiliating. But he’d _barely_ made it to the toilet; by the time the urge to pee had registered, the pressure was so bad that moving had made it unbearable. If he’d lost control, there was no way a pull-up would have been enough to absorb it all. And the only thing worse than peeing himself in the same room as his family was having them know he was doing it because the pee was soaking right through.

Reluctantly, he stood in front of Castiel and allowed the angel to put another diaper on. Much as he hated to admit it, the feel of the material around his hips and genitals was kind of comforting. It was a constant presence telling him that if, by some horror, he did lose control, no one would know. Though that didn’t really make the thought any less terrifying. He slipped his thumb into his mouth, sucking hard, as Castiel helped him to step into first one side of the jeans and then the other.

As Castiel pulled the jeans up to his thighs and then fastened them, he smiled up at Dean. “It’s okay. We’re going to go out and finish supper, and then we’ll go home. You can have a bath and go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna go to bed,” Dean whined around his thumb. It was only about four in the afternoon. They were having a late lunch, not an early supper! 

“Dean…”

“Not tired. Wanna finish the picnic. Wanna swim.”

Castiel sighed, though he never lost his fond smile. “Okay. If that’s what you’d like to do, that sounds good to me. I’m sure Gabriel and Samandriel would be more than willing.” He stood up and gently pulled Dean’s thumb from his mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay to finish supper?”

Dean nodded firmly. He wanted to stay and see Sam for a little while longer, no matter how nervous he was being around his brother. He left the bathroom first, slipping into the kitchen. No one seemed to notice except for Gabriel, so he sat down in his seat. His half-eaten slice of pizza was still on the plate, but it no longer seemed that appetizing. He picked at a piece of pepperoni. He’d only eaten a couple of pieces, when normally he had no problem putting away a full pizza by himself, but he just wasn’t that hungry. 

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel leaned across Castiel’s empty seat, looking at him in concern. “You didn’t eat much this morning, either.”

Instead of risking a response, Dean just shrugged. To be honest, the picnic seemed like it had happened a long time ago instead of just that morning. He turned away from Gabriel, just in case the archangel got any ideas about trying to treat him like a little kid, and said to Sam, “Are you still doing good at your classes?”

Sam nodded and launched into an enthusiastic description of his courses. At some point Rufus and Bobby slipped out, leaving Dean and Gabriel to Sam’s mercy. It was still hard to listen to Sam sound so excited about a life away from Dean. But for the first time _ever_ , it didn’t make Dean feel so lonely that he just wanted to curl up and hide. Because he had a life now too, one that Sam wasn’t a part of. He was reminded of that even more strongly when Castiel finally slipped into the room and sat down beside him, one hand giving Dean a subtle squeeze on his shoulder.

When Sam paused for a breath after about twenty minutes of rambling, Dean was even able to muster up a teasing smile and say, “So have you met any cute girls yet?”

“W-what? No!” Sam sputtered, looking embarrassed.

“Are you sure, Sammy? I bet you run into all kinds of cute co-eds. College girls…” Dean put on his best leer, even though sex had been so far from his mind for the past few months that it felt weird. 

“Gross, Dean! I’m five or six years older than most of them,” Sam muttered, viciously tearing the remains of his pizza into little pieces. “And before you say anything, no. I’m not interested in the ones who are my age, okay? I have more important things to be focusing on. I want to get through school as quick as possible.”

“Why?” Dean said, honestly confused. “You love school. It was the only thing you could talk about the first year we spent together.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to be there forever. I’m just tired. It’s a lot of effort and commitment, you know?” Sam sighed. “And a lot of money.”

“You know money’s no object, Sam,” Gabriel said. He'd funded Sam's return to school, paying all of the fees before either Winchester had known about it.

Sam nodded. “I just don’t want any distractions right now, that’s all.” His tone clearly indicated that the subject was closed, and Dean didn’t push him anymore. This wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if Sam found it hard to be at Stanford. Everything about the school had to remind him of Jess and the life he’d been so close to having. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if Sam would take the chance to ask again about whether or not Castiel treated him like a little kid. That wasn’t a question Dean was prepared to answer. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to talk about the physical things - the diapers, the pacifiers, the sippy cups, or the stroller – much less the way he actually treated: how he was carried around, bathed, fed, and cuddled to within an inch of his life. It was too private, even for Sam.

But his brother didn’t. He just shook his head and sat back. “I should be getting back. I’ve got classes early tomorrow and it’s been a really long day. I ‘ve already missed my shift and I have an essay to finish before I can go to bed tonight.”

“How did you get here, anyway?” Dean asked, suddenly realizing he’d never thought to ask how his brother had traveled thousands of miles that quickly.

“Angel air, how else?” Sam said with a faint smile. “When I heard about Bobby, I kinda panicked. I didn’t want to bother trying to take a plane, and Rufus wouldn’t tell me how bad it was on the phone. I wasn’t sure if it was worthwhile bothering you guys or not. So Hester came and picked me up. She was really nice about it, actually. Though she didn’t answer me when I asked her to come back and heal Bobby.”

“Who?”

“Hester,” Castiel repeated. “I asked her to keep an eye on Sam and answer his calls if anything went wrong, since I wasn’t sure if I would always be able to answer. I’ll ask her why she didn’t answer you the second time, Sam.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Cas. I don’t expect an angel to hover over me every second of the day, and Bobby probably wouldn’t have been very happy about being healed by a random angel anyway.” He stood up and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. “Can someone give me a ride back to campus?”

“I’ll do it,” Gabriel said, getting up. Dean stood up too, conflicted. On the one hand he wanted Sam to stick around longer, but on the other hand he was anxious for his brother to leave before Sam started prying again. 

“Thanks. See ya, dude.” Sam threw his arms around Dean in a rough hug. Dean hugged him back automatically, a little surprised, because they hadn’t even hugged at the bus station when Sam left for Stanford the second time around. He let it go on for just a little longer than normal, then patted Sam’s back gently and pulled back. He wasn’t expecting the surprisingly strong thump Sam gave him right between the shoulder blades before Sam let go.

It _hurt_. A lot. Surprisingly so. Dean barely bit back a squeak of pain. His back had been kind of sore all day, little tingles of pain on and off, but he’d attributed it to sharing a bed with Castiel last night and sleeping in an awkward position. This, though, felt more like Sam had grabbed a knife and sliced him open all the way down his spine. He stepped back, standing stiffly, just barely resisting the urge to check for damage. Castiel shot him a questioning look as he hugged Sam goodbye, and then Gabriel put a hand on Sam’s arm.

“We’ll be right back,” Gabriel told them, and then he and Sam were gone.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked the second they were alone. 

“I’m fine. Just ready to go home,” Dean replied. For something so sharp that it took his breath away, the pain was fading quickly into a dull ache. Like a toothache, the kind that didn’t hurt unless you bit into something. Nothing really worth worrying Castiel about, especially not when Castiel would only get that pinched look because he couldn’t do anything about it.

He turned away from Castiel’s narrowed eyes, adding, “I’ll go say goodbye to Bobby. Be right back.” And quickly walked away before Castiel could say anything. 

Bobby was out in the yard. Rufus was gone, probably headed home. Dean walked over to him slowly, giving him a quick head to toe glance. Gabriel’s mojo was thorough: Bobby looked fine now, a world away from the man who, not five hours ago, had been dying in a hospital bed. He might have been pissed that Rufus had contacted Sam, but it was a damn good thing that Rufus had. Much longer and Bobby would be dead. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably, his eyes burning, and jesus no one had told him that this hatchling thing would involve so much crying. 

“You leaving?” Bobby asked without looking at him, taking a sip from his beer.

Dean had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yeah. Gabriel has stuff to do, and Cas can’t really fly right now.”

“He’s going back up to heaven for a little while, isn’t he?”

Damn. Had everyone seen this coming except Dean? “I think so. It’s the fastest way for an angel to regain their grace, right?”

“You good with that?”

No. “Yeah.”

Bobby shot him a knowing look. “You’re a shit liar, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dean said, scowling. It was bad enough he had to hear that kind of stuff from Gabriel and Castiel at every opportunity. He didn’t want Bobby doing it, too. “Besides, I have to be okay with it. Cas is a sitting duck with his grace the way it is. Those demons almost killed him, Bobby. They would’ve, too, except Gabriel and Balthazar found out what was going on. He needs his grace back more than I need him.”

It sounded convincing enough to Dean’s ears, but Bobby didn’t seem like he was buying it. He just raised an eyebrow with an expression that clearly said he knew Dean was full of shit and said, “Don’t be a stranger to your brother no more. As little sleep as I get, I don’t appreciate having it interrupted by hysterical phone calls because you won’t pick up the damn phone.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He stuck his tongue out. “It’s not my fault Sammy’s a big girl.”

“I mean it, ya idjit.” Bobby shook his head. “You really had him worried.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered to the ground, uncomfortable. He really hadn’t thought it would be that big of a deal. Last time Sam had cut off all contact when he went to Stanford. How was Dean supposed to know that this time was different? 

He was saved from having to continue the conversation when Castiel and Gabriel came out of the house. Dean stepped towards them, relieved, and didn’t even protest Gabriel slinging an arm around his shoulders – but only because Gabriel wrapped his other arm around Castiel’s waist. He leaned into the familiar warmth, said a quick goodbye to Bobby, and let Gabriel’s wings take him away.


	36. Chapter 36

Despite Dean’s insistence on the picnic, it didn’t end up happening. When they returned home, Castiel sat down on the couch and drew Dean down onto his lap under the guise of giving Gabriel enough time to get things ready. Dean came willingly enough, eyes already heavily lidded, setting his knees on either side of Castiel’s thighs and tucking his head under Castiel’s chin. He slipped his thumb into his mouth, mumbled something unintelligible and was out like a light within minutes.

Castiel stroked his hair, not surprised in the least. The process of becoming a hatchling with taxing enough on the human body, but it had been a very long, emotional day for Dean. Between seeing Bobby on the brink of death and trying to keep up appearances around Sam and Bobby, Dean was completely exhausted. He decided to let Dean sleep for a little while before putting him to bed and settled back against the couch, shifting Dean a bit until the baby sagged into him bonelessly.

Gabriel popped back into the room a couple of minutes later. “Sammy’s all set,” he announced, though he kept his voice quiet enough to not disturb Dean. He threw himself down in the chair across from Castiel and stretched. “You know, the dorm rooms they give university students suck, especially considering how much they want you to pay for them. I went back to embellish Sam’s a little.”

“Did Sam say you could?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“He didn’t say I couldn’t,” Gabriel replied, which was answer enough. “He left as soon as I took him back. Said something about heading to the library and then making up for a shift?” He shrugged. “I don’t understand why humans want to work so much.”

“It’s what they do, Gabriel. Sam works to support himself,” Castiel said. It was the best explanation he could offer, considering that he didn’t really grasp the nuances of it all. Sam and Dean had already proven they could acquire money through means that took far less effort than the kind of work Sam was doing right now, like hustling or credit card scams. But Sam had made it clear he was determined to make it through university legally – and without accepting any more money than absolutely necessary, which Gabriel had also offered to him.

“That sounds boring,” Gabriel muttered, and Castiel had to concede that it did. 

He was glad that Dean didn’t have to do that. Dean had been through enough already without having the additional stress of worrying about making enough money to survive. Because Castiel knew Dean well enough to know that Dean would have worked himself to the bone to make sure that Sam didn’t have to work and could concentrate on school. It was just the kind of person Dean was. He had been taught from a young age to always put Sam’s needs ahead of his own, and it was a lesson that had stuck.

“It’s unfortunate that Sam feels the need to prove himself,” Castiel said carefully. “But it won’t be for much longer, Gabriel. And once Sam is finished with school, I think, based on your interactions, that if you asked Sam to be your nestling he would say yes.”

Rather than denying it the way he would have before, Gabriel just shrugged. It was progress of a sort. Castiel would take what he could get. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair one last time and then slowly trailed them down Dean’s back, frowning when Dean shifted and squirmed against him at the sensation. He’d noticed that Dean was in pain earlier, though Dean had – of course – brushed it off. But when he did it a second time, a little bit harder to gauge the response, Dean just sighed and nuzzled closer. He was drooling around his thumb, warm and wet against Castiel’s neck.

“Sam won’t be a hatchling,” Gabriel said then.

Castiel nodded. “I know.” He was pretty sure that Sam would be young for a nestling, probably around four to five years old in human years, which would be perfect for Gabriel. Young enough that Gabriel would have to look after him, but old enough that he wouldn’t require constant care like Dean did. He wondered what Dean would think, having an ‘older brother’ for once.

He patted Dean’s bottom absently and realized that the baby was wet. It was probably time to put him down for bed, anyway. Castiel stood up, seamlessly shifting Dean into his arms, and looked back at Gabriel. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Gabriel said, snapping his fingers. The television went on, showing scantily clad girls strutting across a beach. Castiel rolled his eyes and carried Dean out of the room.

He spread the changing pad out on the bed and laid Dean down on top of it. Dean barely stirred as Castiel removed his t-shirt, pants and diaper, though he woke up a little when he was carried out of the bedroom into the bathroom while still naked. He ended up sitting on the toilet and pouting around his thumb while Castiel ran warm water and bubble bath in the tub. 

“Don’t need a bath,” he grumbled. “We were supposed to be having the picnic.”

“No picnic tonight, and yes you do need a bath. You were sleepy last night so you didn’t get one, which means you need one tonight,” Castiel replied, testing the water. It was just the right temperature. “Come on, Dean. Just a quick bath and then you can eat something and go to bed.”

“I’m not hungry.” Dean kept pouting as he stepped into the tub and sat down. 

“You didn’t eat very much today,” Castiel pointed out. Dean had been so excited for Gabriel’s surprise during the picnic that he’d eaten a fraction of what he usually did, and so upset during the pizza that the same thing had happened again. He figured Dean was just tired and getting cranky as a result. Coaxing food into him would require a lot of time and effort, but there was another avenue. And after seeing how Dean had been with the beer bottle today, he thought Dean might actually be open to it now.

Dean frowned and grabbed a toy in lieu of responding, but his enthusiasm for his usually beloved bath toys was subpar at best. He listlessly squirted water a few times while Castiel ran a washcloth over him, not even putting up a fuss when Castiel cleaned between his legs. Normally after a bath Castiel gave him a few minutes in the tub to play. If there was one thing that would make Dean act like the baby he was, it was water. But tonight he just pulled the plug and let the water drain away.

He scooped Dean up into a big, fluffy towel and gently started to dry him off. “Did you like seeing Sam today?”

“Yeah,” Dean said through a yawn. “Sammy looks tired, though. He’s doing too much.”

“You and your brother have that in common,” Castiel said, dropping the towel on Dean’s head. He chuckled as Dean batted away the fabric. “He’ll be okay, Dean. Gabriel’s asked a few trustworthy angels to keep an eye on your brother. If Sam starts to get too stressed out or breaks down, then Gabriel will talk to him.”

“And will that talk be anything like _our_ talk?” Dean asked wryly. 

“That depends. If you mean the one where I extended an offer to you and you promptly freaked out, probably.”

“I didn’t freak out!”

Castiel just looked at him and Dean subsided into a sulky silence, crossing his arms. He stayed quiet while Castiel got him diapered and dressed in a pair of pajamas – bright green, with a picture of a yellow dragon on the top – but couldn’t stop the yawns, which were coming on thick and fast. 

“Go wait in your bedroom. I’ll be right in,” Castiel said, smoothing a hand over his still damp hair. He was half-expecting an argument that never came; Dean stood up and stumbled sleepily towards his bedroom. Castiel went into the kitchen and took a bottle out of the cupboard. Gabriel wandered in while he was putting milk into the microwave and rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god, give me that,” he said, making a grab for the milk. “Do you want the baby to drink it or throw a fuss? ‘Cause I am not up for a tantrum tonight.” He snapped his fingers and a pot appeared on the stove. He switched the burner on, poured some milk in, and began adding honey and some spices while stirring.

“It would’ve been fine.” 

“Yeah right,” Gabriel muttered, huddling over the pot like he was expecting Castiel to muscle him out of the way. Which, honestly, if Gabriel wanted to cook for Dean, Castiel was not going to stop him. Cooking and baking would never be Castiel’s strong point: he wasn’t very good at following the instructions, even when he tried to be careful. Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed to possess a natural affinity for it. He moved around the kitchen like he’d been created with that purpose in mind.

A couple of minutes later, once the milk had been sufficiently warmed and Gabriel had added grace – there was very little left, Castiel noted with concern, probably only enough for two or three more doses – he handed the bottle to Castiel with a flourish. "There. That's something actually worth consuming."

"Thank you, Gabriel." Castiel accepted the bottle, doing his best to keep a straight face. He never would have thought that there would be a day when Gabriel was this concerned over what Dean ate and drank. "You'll be good for Sam, you know. When the time comes."

"Go feed your hatchling, Cassie."

"I'm going." Castiel retreated, walking down the hall to Dean's bedroom. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his fox and his bee on his lap, and rubbing his eyes with one hand. He looked up when Castiel entered and hastily dropped his hand.

"I'm not tired," he said immediately.

"Yes, you look like you're not tired," Castiel said wryly, gesturing for him to scoot up on the bed. He sat down in the space left behind and showed Dean the bottle. 

The expression the flashed across Dean's face was difficult to interpret. It was equal parts fear, curiosity, shame and dismay, which matched perfectly with the thoughts running rampant through Dean's head. Castiel was quiet for a moment, letting Dean have his initial reaction. Underneath the surface emotions, which were changing too fast for him to really keep track of, he could sense _wanting_. Whether Dean was willing to acknowledge it or not, it was there.

"I know you're not hungry, just like you're not tired. But I want you to have something in your tummy. Can you drink this for me while I read to you?" he asked. Despite how much he wanted to cradle Dean in his arms and wings and help him drink, he suspected this was better at first. Letting Dean feel that he had some control was important.

Dean stared at the bottle for a long time without speaking.

"Uncle Gabriel made it for you," Castiel added. 

That seemed to be the deciding factor. Slowly, Dean took the bottle. He didn't make any move to drink, though, and Castiel picked up their book and settled back against the wall. He started to read, pretending like he wasn't paying any attention when Dean curled up against him. But he was definitely watching when Dean finally put the bottle to his lips and just sucked at it for a couple of minutes, the way he would with a pacifier, before he finally tipped the bottle up enough to get some liquid.

It must've tasted good, because Dean made a soft sound of pleasure and instinctively started to suck harder. His eyes closed in concentration, dark lashes fluttering, which was fortunate because Castiel couldn't hide his smile any longer. He wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders and continued to read.


	37. Chapter 37

Dean ached. He'd have liked to have claimed that it was limited to his back, specifically around his shoulder blades, but it wasn’t. That was where the sharpest pains were located, like a line of little needles set against the inside of his flesh, but the rest of his body ached too. He woke up the morning after they’d visited Sam and Bobby cursing his brother, but he didn’t think this was all Sam’s fault. Maybe that too hard thump on the back had set it off, but Sam wasn’t _that_ strong. 

Hot water helped a little, but for the most part over the next couple of days Dean was miserable. Being a hunter meant that he was used to all manner of injuries, but this was the first time he’d been hurt since starting this whole nestling thing and he couldn’t even say anything about it. If he did, there was no way Castiel would go up to heaven to renew his grace. And he needed to. Badly. He was starting to look a little too human for Dean’s tastes, and a strung out, exhausted, barely functioning human at that. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“I can do this,” he muttered, pressing his face against his bee. The warmth helped a little, but not enough. He slowly stood up, grimacing as the pain radiated down his spine. Not for the first time, he pulled his top up and twisted around to look at his back just to see if there was any swelling or bruising. There wasn’t. His back didn’t look any different from normal.

“Dean?”

Shit. How did little kids do it? There was absolutely no privacy whatsoever. He’d only been in here for less than five minutes. Dean quickly tugged his top back down a split second before Castiel came into the room. “Hi Daddy,” he said with what was meant to be a smile, but once he caught sight of Castiel there was no way he could manage that. It had only been a few minutes since breakfast, but somehow Castiel looked even worse now .

“What are you doing? I turned around after putting the dishes in the sink and you were gone.”

“Nothing,” Dean said, shrugging. “You, um, you don’t look so good.”

Castiel sighed. “Yes. Since he arrived two minutes ago, Gabriel has already pointed that out numerous times. I think it’s time for me to return to heaven for a little while and heal once and for all.” He didn’t sound pleased at the prospect.

“I wish I was old enough to come with you,” Dean said. It still felt weird to say that, considering that he was technically a fully grown human, but according to Castiel he wasn’t ready to go up to heaven yet. And he didn’t like the idea of Castiel leaving. He didn’t really think there was a chance that Castiel wouldn’t come back – he seemed pretty committed to what they were doing, after all - but Dean had learned a long time ago that anything was possible. 

“It won’t be for long, Dean, I promise. Time in heaven passes much slower than it does down here. To you, it won’t feel like much more than a couple of days.” Castiel stepped closer and pulled him into a warm hug. Dean clung to him, realizing that the pressure of Castiel’s arms felt good against his back, as Castiel whispered, “I wouldn’t go at all unless it was necessary, but I only have a little more grace to give you. Running out is not an option at this point.”

Dean snorted – of course that was the only reason the dumb angel was agreeing to go – and pulled back. “Then I guess you better go,” he said, forcing back tears. He absolutely refused to cry just because Castiel was leaving. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Castiel cupped his face. “I _am_ coming back, little one. I will hear your prayers, and Gabriel can contact me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Dean said, even though he knew he wouldn’t be calling Castiel for anything. It was scary to see the angel like this: it was straight out of the days of the Apocalypse, when Castiel was falling and none of them could do anything to help him. He didn’t bother suggesting that Castiel take Gabriel with him, because that had already been met with a resounding ‘no’, but he wanted to.

He followed Castiel out into the living room, where Gabriel was waiting for them. Castiel gave him one last hug that didn’t last nearly long enough, then backed up a step, smiled and was gone. Just like that. Dean stared at the spot where he’d been until it grew blurry, and then suddenly Gabriel was pulling him into a tight hug. He sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, but this time it didn’t help. 

“He’s gonna be back before you know it, kiddo,” Gabriel said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and rubbing a hand up and down his back. Dean had to steel himself against wincing.

“I know,” he muttered, squashing the little voice of doubt in the back of his head. “But you… you can’t call him.”

“Come again?”

“You can’t call him,” Dean repeated, looking up at him. The pain in his back was feeling a lot worse now, though whether that was from Gabriel’s touch or his daddy being gone, it was hard to say. “No matter what happens. The whole point of this is for him to heal and restore his grace, right? If you call him, he’ll come back and then he won’t want to leave again.”

Gabriel sighed. “Let’s just hope that’s not an issue, alright?” He ruffled Dean’s hair and then released him. “Come on, what do you say we play outside for a little while?”

It turned out that playing outside wasn’t nearly as much fun without Castiel. It was okay at first, while he and Gabriel were flying kites together, because Dean liked seeing the kites dance on the wind. But after the wind died down and Gabriel put the kites away, Dean sat down on the ground and aimlessly pushed around a few of his trucks. Sometimes it was fun to play with them, but he just couldn’t get into it the way he normally did. He wondered what Castiel was doing. Were the other angels glad to see him? Was Balthazar up there with him? Was Raphael trying to cause trouble? What would Castiel do if someone tried to fight with him while he was so low on grace?

Knowing Castiel, he wouldn’t back down one bit. He was stubborn like that. Dean picked up a stick and drew a few meaningless symbols in the dirt, but it quickly turned into a bunch of stick figures with wings fighting each other. Because Gabriel had been the one who was keeping peace in heaven, but now he was stuck here with Dean. That was exactly the kind of thing that Raphael would take advantage of. If something went wrong, it was all Dean’s fault because he was too much of a baby to be left alone.

“Please don’t let anything happen,” Dean whispered, not even sure who he was speaking to, and wiped at the tears on his face. He swiped a hand over his drawings until they were all gone and started over, deciding that he’d draw a picture of him and Sam in the Impala instead. He kept at it, adding in stick figures meant to represent Bobby and Jody and Rufus and Jo and Ellen, until Gabriel called to him that it was time for lunch.

Gabriel had really gone all out, too, with grilled cheese sandwiches that had three kinds of cheese and homemade potato chips with a sippy cup of milk. Dean just wasn’t feeling it. He ate half a sandwich slowly, under Gabriel’s watchful eyes, then looked down at the rest of his plate. The food _looked_ delicious, and it smelled really good too, but he just wasn’t hungry. For the last three or four days, his appetite had been basically non-existent. He pushed his plate away.

“Finish your lunch,” Gabriel said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Dean.”

Dean squirmed. He had to pee too, but he’d been holding it until now. No one had ever changed him but Castiel, and he didn’t know how to feel about the likelihood of Gabriel doing it. He glanced up slowly, meeting Gabriel’s intent gaze. Just like Castiel, it felt like Gabriel could see straight through him.

“I know you’re worried about your daddy, but you have to eat.”

“It’s not that. I’m just not hungry. I haven’t been even before I found out he was going,” Dean said defensively, which was true. Ever since their shopping trip, food just hadn’t been that appealing. 

“But there is a reason for it?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. “Does this have anything to do with you not wanting me to call Cassie for any reason? I figured there was something going on. Your daddy would’ve noticed if he wasn’t so distracted with leaving you. Come on, let’s hear it. What’s going on?”

“My back hurts,” Dean mumbled, quiet enough that human ears wouldn’t have heard, but Gabriel had no problem.

“Your back hurts? What’s – oh.”

There was something about the gravity of that ‘oh’ that made Dean feel a little bit panicked. There had been a terrifying suspicion brewing in the back of his mind for the past week that he had been trying really, really hard not to think about, but there were certain things that were adding up to an unavoidable conclusion. The pain in his back, which was centered around his shoulder blades, plus the fact that most, if not all, of the winter clothing that had been bought for him had slits on the shoulders equaled… well. 

“Dean,” Gabriel said, very gently, and Dean’s panic kicked into overdrive.

“It’s not a big deal!” he snapped, fisting shaking hands in his lap. “Sam hit me too hard when we said good-bye, that’s all. He’s just a big moose and doesn’t know his own strength. It will go away. In fact, it already feels better than it did this morning.”

It was a blatant lie, because if anything his back was aching worse, and Gabriel knew it. “Come here, honey. Let me see.” He pushed his chair back and held his arms out, and Dean wavered for only a moment before he slid off his chair and moved around the table. Gabriel pulled him onto his lap, guiding Dean’s head down onto his shoulder, and then laid his hands on Dean’s back.

At first it wasn’t too bad: the pressure, like Castiel’s arms, felt good. But then it started to sting. Dean jerked against the iron hold and whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes as the pain increased depending on where Gabriel was touching him. He bit his lower lip to distract from it all, but then something icy cold and vaguely familiar washed over his back and he was _done_. Dean burst into tears and started to struggle, barely noticing that he was wetting himself.

“Stop! It hurts! Uncle Gabriel, please!” he sobbed.

Gabriel had already whisked his grace and his hands away. He smoothed Dean’s hair, whispering apologies. “I know, I know. It hurts. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re getting your wings, baby boy.”

“I don’t want wings,” Dean whimpered, more of that panic and dread curling his stomach.

“It’s non-negotiable at this point. Your wings are growing under the surface of your skin; that’s why it hurts. You should have said something before your daddy left. Until they’re ready to come out, the pain will only get worse for you from this point on.”

“I don’t care. If I’d told him, he wouldn’t have gone and you know it. Please don’t call him.” Dean looked up with the best version of wet puppy eyes that he could muster.

“Dean…”

“I’ll be okay. I’ve had worse. It’s not that bad. And he said he’d be back in a couple of days, right?”

Gabriel sighed. “He’ll be furious, you know.” But he sounded resigned.

“I know. But at least he’ll be back to normal, and getting mad won’t leave him exhausted,” Dean said. “Please, Uncle Gabriel.” He kept staring, not stopping the tears from welling up, and could practically pinpoint the second when Gabriel caved.

“Okay. So long as I think you can handle the pain, I won’t call him.”

“Thank you,” Dean breathed, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s neck in a grateful hug. As long as Castiel came back whole and healthy, he was confident he could handle anything for a couple of days.


	38. Chapter 38

The one good thing about angels was that grace could easily serve as a way to fast forward through more unpleasant tasks. Castiel had been changing him the human way for so long that Dean had almost forgotten that Gabriel could just snap his fingers and he would be in a dry diaper just like that. It was definitely a lot easier and far less embarrassing, not to mention less time consuming, so there was no reason why it should leave him feeling a little cheated.

After all, he definitely did _not_ like it when Castiel changed him. It was just... kind of nice to have his daddy's undivided attention in those moments. He could admit, if only to himself, that he liked feeling how strong but gentle Castiel's hands were when they touched him. Castiel was capable of breaking bones - and more, when he had his grace - with his bare hands, but Dean had never once felt threatened even when he was flat on his back, bare for the angel to see in more ways than one. Instead, it made him feel cared for.

But he figured that it was probably for the best that Gabriel had chosen the easy way out for both of them, inspite of the twinge of pain that raced up his back when the archangel's grace changed him into a fresh diaper. He kept his head on Gabriel's shoulder, staring vacantly out the window. Now that the truth had come out, and he had to acknowledge what was happening, the pain seemed to go much deeper. Like the growing pains he’d suffered as a little kid, but worse.

"Uncle Gabriel?" he said quietly.

"Yes, kiddo?"

"What's gonna happen?" He nearly added a very tiny _to me_ at the end, but held it back at the last second for fear of sounding too babyish.

"Well, I've never seen this happen myself, but... from what I hear, it’ll be another three or four days before your wings are actually ready to come out. They've been growing under your skin for a while now, ever since Cassie started giving you grace. By tomorrow morning, you'll have small bumps on your back to show where your wings will come through."

Dean swallowed, his tummy churning with anxiety. "And then..."

"When your wings are ready, your daddy will make a small incision on your shoulders to help them come out."

"They won't just... burst out?" Dean whispered. It eased a bit of his fear to know that Gabriel thought Castiel would have returned by that point. He liked Gabriel the most after Castiel, but his uncle was no match for his daddy.

"You have been watching way too many horror films, sweetheart," Gabriel said, and he actually sounded a little amused. "No, they're not going to just burst out of you. For one thing, you're still human enough that that would likely send you into shock and kill you. For another, it would be needlessly painful." 

"It already hurts."

"I know. That's why I wish you'd told us before Castiel left. I can't do anything to help you right now," Gabriel replied. He patted Dean's bottom and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry. My grace will just make it feel worse. Maybe later I can put some ice on your shoulders. That might help to take the swelling down. But I don't think human medication will have much of an affect on you."

Dean pouted at that. He was used to suffering through pain, but if it got _really_ bad he'd never hesitated to reach for the heavy duty pain medication if they had some on hand. John Winchester had always taught them that pain was part of being a hunter, and 99% of the time his only medication had been the alcoholic kind. It was Bobby Singer who'd hammered it through the heads of both Sam and Dean that only dumb hunters soldiered on when they didn't have to.

"We got enough pain in our lives," Bobby had said, slamming a bottle of vidocin down in front of Sam when he'd broken both his legs. "I'm not sayin' you should go crazy 'cause you gotta keep your head clear, but you're gonna be pushing yourself to get back out there as it is. Doesn't take a genius to figure you should use all the tools at your disposal to do it."

It figured that now he couldn't even fall back on the human methods. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping that the next two days would go by really quickly. He should have known better, really. Wishing that time would go by fast had never worked for Dean Winchester. It was like whatever creature out there was responsible for time had a personal vendetta against him.

The rest of the day dragged by. Watching television was the only activity Dean felt capable of. He turned down an offer of supper, his stomach roiling dangerously at the sight of the chicken noodle soup Gabriel offered him. He had a headache now from being so tense all day, and he really just wanted to fall asleep. So he took the sippy cup of grace Gabriel gave him and drank it, then laid down on his belly and waited while Gabriel carefully draped ice packs across his throbbing shoulders.

The cold did help. After a few minutes it had eased the increasingly sharp sting to the point where Dean was able to drift off to sleep for a little while. He didn't stay asleep for long, though. He woke up around 3am gasping for breath because it hurt so much; there was so much _pressure_ , like someone had put their hands on his back and was leaning against him with all of their weight. He felt like he was suffocating, but when he tried to roll over onto his back agony laced through him.

“Son of a bitch!” he hissed through clenched teeth, sprawling awkwardly on his side. The ice packs were long gone and now he was hot all over, but especially so around his shoulders. He stayed where he was and just tried to remember how to breathe for a very long minute. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face and he lifted a shaky arm, swiping at his forehead.

It’d been a long time since he’d suffered through anything like this. Dean had forgotten how exhausting constant pain could be. It seemed to take hours before he found the strength to slowly push himself up. Pain lanced through him with every movement, no matter how small, and his pajamas were soaked with sweat by the time he was sitting up. His legs trembled badly when he stood, and a couple of steps was enough to tell him that standing had been a mistake. He tried to back up, but his legs gave out before he made it to the bed.

Dean howled when he hit the ground; the tears he’d managed to hold back until now spilled freely down his cheeks as he dissolved into sobs over how much the fall had hurt. The light overhead switched on at the same instant that Gabriel reached down and carefully scooped him up, one hand under his bottom and the other carefully braced against his waist. He held Dean close and whispered to him, running his fingers through Dean’s sweaty hair. Dean clung to him and sobbed.

“Shh, I know. I know, it hurts. You’re being so brave, baby boy. It’s okay. I know,” Gabriel murmured, over and over again. He bounced Dean gently, and it was soothing enough that Dean was able to get a handle, however tentative, on his tears. 

“D-don’t call D-daddy,” he managed to stutter out, shivering.

Gabriel paused. “Dean –”

“No! I’m fine. It was just ‘cause I fell. It’s not that bad,” Dean insisted, even though he knew that Gabriel would see that instantly for the lie it was. 

“Cassie’s going to kill both of us,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “Okay. I won’t call him _yet_. But I think you need to have a cold bath. You’re really warm.”

“I’m already cold.” Dean shivered again and tried to curl closer, wrapping his legs around Gabriel’s waist. 

“You just think you are. Come on.” Gabriel carried him out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. He set Dean on the counter, which was more than wide enough to accommodate him, and pulled his pajama top off. The air in the bathroom was cooler, but Dean tensed to keep from shivering. As Gabriel snapped his fingers and filled the tub with water, he twisted around as best he could to look at the mirror. He wasn’t sure how to feel at the sight of two bumps on his back, both roughly the size of his hand, each one right over his shoulder blades.

“Don’t look at them,” Gabriel said, cupping his cheek and gently turning his face away. 

“It’s hard not to,” Dean said, setting his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders for better support. Gabriel lifted him slightly, just enough to get his pajama bottoms down, and then pulled apart the tabs for the diaper. Dean flushed, embarrassed that it was wet, but Gabriel didn’t care. He just picked Dean up, pivoted to face the bath, and lowered him into what felt like cold water.

Dean squeaked in protest and tried to stand up again, but Gabriel was way too strong and his legs still refused to support him. He would’ve fallen against the side of the tub were it not for Gabriel’s grip on his arms, which prevented him from hurting himself. More tears welled up in his eyes, this time of frustration, but he refused to let them fall. He settled for shivering dramatically and looking up at Gabriel with an accusing pout. Gabriel’s mouth twitched before he knelt, scooping up some water with his hand and letting it trickle through Dean’s hair.

“I know you hate me right now, and I’m fine with that. I’m not doing this to make you feel worse, Dean. It’s to help. I’m trying to do what I can.” He sounded very frustrated, and suddenly a little flicker of guilt pierced through Dean’s affront. Gabriel hadn’t asked for this, not really. He was stuck baby-sitting Dean because Castiel had to go up to heaven and he was worried about his brother, but this was probably the last way that Gabriel wanted to spend his time. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and this time he couldn’t stop a couple tears from spilling over.

“Oh, baby, no. Don’t think like that; I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You never wanted this,” Dean mumbled, staring at the water as the tears came faster. “Y-you’re just… ‘c-cause of D-Daddy –”

“No,” Gabriel said, so firmly that Dean peeked up at him again. Gabriel caught his chin, lifted his head the rest of the way so that their eyes met, and smiled. There was a lot of affection in that smile. “It’s true that I didn’t plan on becoming as involved with you as I have. But that’s not because of Cassie. It’s because of _you_ , Dean. I think I could have treated this whole hatchling thing like a bothersome task with just about anyone else, but not you. And it’s incredibly annoying, because I didn’t _want_ to care about you this way, but somewhere along the line that changed and I do. You’re _my_ nephew, and not just cause you’re Cassie’s. When I sound frustrated, it’s because I hate that you’re in pain and I can’t do anything about it. I’m used to being able to snap my fingers and fix things, but right now I can’t do that.”

Dean stared at him, speechless. His instinct was to believe that Gabriel was lying, but… he didn’t think that Gabriel was. It was hard to tell of course, because the archangel had perfected the art of lying over his centuries on Earth, but there was a particular tone Gabriel used when he was being honest. He swallowed hard. No one, except for Castiel, had ever said anything to him like that. No one had ever cared that much about him, or about the fact that he was in pain. He didn’t know what to do.

“Now, you’re going to sit in this bath for a little while longer until your back stops hurting so much. Then I’m going to make you a bottle, and I’ll help you drink it because you haven’t had anything else for the past day. We’ll watch television together until you’re ready to go back to sleep. Okay?” Gabriel waited for Dean’s hesitant nod before he scooped up more water and smoothed it over Dean’s hair.


	39. Chapter 39

Dean drank the bottle Gabriel prepared for him after his bath without much argument, but only because he was too embarrassed to let Gabriel hold it for him. Then he and Gabriel settled down on the couch together to watch some television - specifically, Dr. Sexy. It wasn't age appropriate by any stretch of the imagination, but the new episodes were enough to hold Dean's attention for at least three or four hours. Dean seemed content to lay with his head on Gabriel's lap, thumb tucked into his mouth, and watched the show through half-opened eyes. And besides, considering what Dean was going through, Gabriel was prepared to do just about anything to make the experience a little less horrible.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought about this very scenario happening earlier. He and Castiel could've avoided this if they had only put some thought into it; neither of them had been expecting Dean to be this self-sacrificing, which was sheer stupidity on their parts. The baby was still a Winchester down to his bones, and that meant he would put himself through untold amounts of pain if he believed it would help someone else he loved suffer less. Gabriel had seen it happen a handful of times already on both Dean's and Sam's parts, and it would continue to happen until they were stopped. That was, in part, why Castiel had taken Dean as his hatchling in the first place. 

It was just unfortunate that Dean didn't seem to understand that.

In spite of Gabriel's best efforts, Dean grew worse over the next several hours. Unlike most children, who would've been throwing a fuss about the pain, Dean became quieter as his level of pain increased. He stopped responding to any questions with words, likely because speaking would take away from the concentration required to keep his emotions under control, instead communicating with grunts or nonverbal body language. Gabriel tried the ice packs again, but they didn't help as much as they had the night before. The swelling was spreading and fresh bruises were developing on Dean's shoulders and back as the wings beneath his skin twitched to life for the first time. 

Deeply frustrated now, and suddenly understanding why new parents sometimes chose to let their babies cry, Gabriel snapped the ice packs away and entered the kitchen. There was only one portion of grace left, but he doubted he'd be able to get Dean to drink it at this point. It would only result in a fight. And there was no point in wasting it, not when he wasn't sure whether or not it would be enough to help. It was better to set it aside for the later in the day, just in case Castiel didn't end up coming back and Dean needed his daily dose. Gabriel closed his eyes briefly at the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away his headache. Castiel had to come back soon, or he was going to have to call his brother.

As though by will alone, Rachel chose that moment to reach out to him and let him know that their purchases from the shopping trip were ready to be picked up. Gabriel had to fight not to laugh. He responded in a clipped way, knowing that neither he nor Cas would have the time to get the furniture anytime soon, and withdrew his grace from hers as soon as she got the message. He stood there for a moment longer, half-hoping that Castiel would be the one to reach out to him next, but nothing happened.

Finally, Gabriel sighed and called out, "Dean?" as he turned to head back into the living room. He was wondering whether he might be able to coax Dean into eating a little something, even pie, when he caught sight of the baby again.

Dean was still curled up on the couch, but apparently the dam had broken. Fresh tears pooled in those vivid green eyes and slid down flushed cheeks. He was chewing on his fingers again, probably to distract himself from the pain. He looked utterly miserable. Gabriel crossed the floor quickly and pulled Dean's hand from his mouth, wincing at the whimper Dean let out. He snapped up a plain green pacifier, too worried to bother with something fancy, that was strong enough to withstand human teeth and pushed that into Dean's mouth instead. Dean blinked at him and then turned his head away, body heaving with a shuddering sob. He shifted, as though he might try to move away, then went still and sobbed weakly.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" Gabriel said, impulsively kneeling down in front of the couch. It was only once he was on the same level as Dean that the smell reached him. He froze, shocked, and realized that this had _definitely_ gone too far. Dean was in so much pain that he had pooped in his diaper rather than try to make it to the toilet, even when Gabriel would've gladly carried him.

"Oh, Dean," he said softly, and received another choked sob as a response. Gabriel stroked his hair and leaned down to press a kiss against the baby's hot cheek. As quickly and gently as possible, he used his grace to change Dean's diaper. Dean arched under the touch of another angel's grace and whimpered again, then went limp. He looked like he had given up, and that was easily one of the most frightening things Gabriel had ever seen.

Okay, that was it. Gabriel set a comforting hand on Dean's diaper-clad bottom and reached out to Castiel. Until now he'd been keeping himself as shielded from heaven as possible to avoid letting any worry or fear seep through, but Castiel would just have to be healed enough. Dean needed him. It took less than a second for him to locate his brother's familiar grace, and Gabriel was deeply relieved to see that Castiel was nearly back at full strength. Another three or four hours and he likely would've returned of his own accord, but Gabriel just couldn't bring himself to make Dean wait that long. He gathered up an imprint of the past several hours and offered them to his little brother, along with a wordless plea.

Light blazed through the room, visible only to Gabriel's eyes, as Castiel immediately flew into the room. He arrived so fast that he got there before his vessel, his true form a shock of grace and power before it was condensed into the form Dean was more familiar with. Balthazar and Rachel arrived a split second later, their blades ready. No doubt the two of them had no idea why Castiel had departed from heaven so quickly, and thought that something was wrong. Alarmingly, though, Dean didn't react to Castiel's presence. He remained where he was on the couch, staring vacantly into space, the tears still slipping down his cheeks. 

"Dean," Castiel breathed, his blue eyes wide when he caught sight of the couch. "Gabriel, what - ?"

"His wings," Gabriel said by way of explanation, sitting back on his heels. "He didn't want to tell us because you were leaving, and he thought you wouldn't go if you knew. And then he didn't want me to call you back because he wanted you to be fully healed first."

"You should have called me regardless," Castiel said, but there was no heat in his voice. There wasn't time for that right now. He put a hand on Dean's head and leaned down so that their eyes met. "Dean? Honey?"

"Keep talking to him," Gabriel commanded, snapping his fingers. Castiel blinked in surprise as the upper half of his body was divested of clothing. Rachel quietly departed, while Balthazar slipped into the kitchen: they either guessed, or knew, what was about to happen. Gabriel ignored his brother's confusion, forcefully pulling Castiel down into reach and spreading the black wings so that he could examine them. It had been a long time since he'd regularly groomed Castiel's wings, but there was a time when Gabriel had done it every morning. He hadn't forgotten. He dug his fingers into the glossy black feathers, searching for the oil glands.

"Gabriel! What are you - "

"Talk to Dean, not me."

Castiel frowned but obeyed, leaning close to Dean and speaking to him quietly. Dean shivered when he registered the sound of his daddy's voice, which was a positive sign, but not nearly enough. Gabriel bit his lip to keep from shouting in relief when he found Castiel's oil glands and discovered that there was plenty of oil stored up. Unsurprising, really, as Castiel's body would have been preparing for this moment even if Castiel had no idea. 

He rubbed the glands gently, stimulating them the same way he would if he were grooming Castiel. Slowly, far too slowly for Gabriel's tastes, oil trickled into his palms. Normally, this was the point where he would begin combing the oil through Castiel's feathers, helping them to stay glossy and healthy.

This time, he pulled his hands away and shuffled closer to Dean. The poor kid started badly, pacifier falling from his mouth, and cried out when Gabriel touched his shoulders, but Castiel gripped his upper arms to keep him still. Dean started to cry as Gabriel smoothed the wing oil over his shoulders, then screamed when Gabriel's hands traveled across the bumps. He cried and cried as Gabriel moved all the way down to the top of his diaper, then swiped a couple of fingers under the top of the diaper for good measure, before tracing his oiled hands up Dean's sides. He made sure that every inch of Dean's back was thoroughly coated, and hated himself more with every pained sob Dean let out.

It worked, though, just as Gabriel had been told. Slowly, the tension in Dean's body relaxed as the pain began to ease. Dean looked up and seemed to consciously realize that Castiel was there for the first time; he burst into tears all over again and started to sit up. Both Gabriel and Castiel rushed to stop him, but Dean refused to be deterred. His daddy had returned and he needed to be with him. Castiel finally sank down onto the couch and gathered Dean into his lap, letting the hatchling cling to him. He wrapped one arm around Dean's bottom and patted Dean's head with the other, murmuring to him as Dean sobbed into his bare shoulder.

Thank their father. Gabriel sank back against the bottom of the chair, too tired to even bother cleaning his hands, and just listened. It took a little while, but gradually Dean's sobs tapered off as exhaustion caught up with him and he drifted off into sleep, finally at a point where he could. The silence was the most blissful thing that Gabriel could've asked for. He didn't even realize that his own eyes had drifted shut until he heard Castiel say his name very quietly. Gabriel blinked heavily and looked at him. Angels weren't supposed to require sleep, but it seemed that having Dean Winchester around as a hatchling was teaching everyone some new lessons.

"Gabriel," Castiel said again. "Thank you."

That was not what Gabriel was expecting. He sat up a little straighter, staring at his brother. "I thought you'd be pissed at me for not contacting you sooner."

"I am," came the flat response. "You really should have called me as soon as you figured out what was going on. Dean is my responsibility, and that means he comes first. I would have gladly returned sooner, or at least had Balthazar deliver some of my wing oil so that Dean didn't have to suffer so much. And I didn't even know that was a remedy, so thank you for that." He pressed a kiss to the top of Dean's head and sighed. "But I also know what Dean is like. He and I will be having a very long talk in the near future. It seems he still insists on thinking that he needs to take care of everyone."

"You'll never train that out of him," Gabriel said, finally mustering the strength to snap his hands clean. Dried wing oil wasn't pleasant on skin, unless you were a hatchling or a nestling in the middle of getting your wings. "He didn't care that he was in pain. He just wanted you to be okay."

"I know." Castiel held Dean a bit tighter. "Thank you for taking care of him."

Gabriel looked at his brother and his nephew and, in spite of the last several hours, had to smile. "Anytime, Cas. Anytime."


	40. Chapter 40

Dean spent most of the night and the next day in a restless state, in too much pain to really sleep. He was exhausted, but woke frequently to cry when his back became too sore for him to bear, and Gabriel would have to smooth more oil over the swollen skin while Castiel did his best to comfort him. It was hard. The sound of Castiel's voice seemed to soothe Dean a little, but otherwise he didn't register that his daddy or his uncle were with him. 

"It's the fever," Gabriel said late that night, sounding as exhausted as Castiel felt. "It's the grace, you know? You can feel it bubbling up inside of him. His wings will probably be ready to come out early tomorrow morning. He should be okay once that happens."

"Should be?" Castiel repeated, looking down at Dean worriedly. Dean was curled up with his head on Castiel's lap, one hand hooked into the belt loop on Castiel's jeans. His other hand was up near his mouth so he could suck his thumb. His face was stained with tears; it hurt him to not have the oil's relief, but it was agonizing to be touched. 

"Give me a break, Cassie. I've never actually done this before. I didn't even know if the oil thing would really work. It was just something I heard through the grapevine." Gabriel sighed and leaned back against the couch. "As far as I can tell, it's good that Dean's made it this far. This is usually the point where nestlings die if their bodies haven't become accustomed to the grace, and the kiddo's doing a decent job of getting through it."

That was true. Though Dean had a high fever and was subdued, he _was_ aware enough to know when Castiel moved more than a few inches away. He'd already proven that he was capable of coming instantly awake and crying until Castiel came back into reach. And, as Gabriel had pointed out long ago, their bond had eased the way long before Dean ever became a hatchling.

The comfortable silence lingered between them, broken only by Dean's quiet breathing, until finally Castiel broke it. "What color do you think his wings will be?"

"I dunno. I've thought about it, but it's hard to say."

"Green, maybe? To match his eyes?" Castiel brushed a strand of hair out of Dean's face. Dean had such beautiful eyes. The green was such a deep, rich shade. He could picture Dean with wings the same color very easily. It made for a striking image.

"Could be. We've got nestlings up in heaven with wings every color of the rainbow." Gabriel snickered. "Maybe they'll be pink. Babe would love that."

"Be nice," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. That would be a disaster. Dean could be coaxed into going along with just about everything else, but pink wings? He doubted there was a force in existence that could make Dean accept that, especially once he found out that nestlings couldn't hide their wings until their grace developed.

"I am nice. I'm so nice that I'm going to run out and get us something to eat, and I'll even come back afterwards." 

"Bring back cheeseburgers," Castiel said to the empty space where his brother had just been. He didn't blame Gabriel for needing a break. He glanced back down at Dean and pictured him with blue wings. Or brown. Even yellow or red would be lovely. 

The only colors he knew for certain that Dean's wings wouldn't be were white, black, grey, bronze, silver or gold, which were exclusive to the angels who had been borne from God. And only the archangels could have gold wings; before Lucifer fell, his wings had been the most magnificent of all: a shining shade of gold to rival the sun, with the occasional silver and bronze feather to add to the splendor.

Castiel sighed at the memory and opened his eyes. There was no time to sit there and remember how life used to be; Dean needed to be changed, and then he'd have to be coaxed into eating something. He stood up and lifted Dean into his arms, taking full enjoyment out of how naturally Dean curled into him. He had missed this more than anything else while he was in heaven. 

It was while he was carefully changing Dean's diaper that Dean woke up, heavily lidded eyes opening and blinking at Castiel. Castiel smiled back at him. He was using his grace to support Dean in the air so that Dean's back wouldn't be pressed against the bed or the floor, and he used it to tickle Dean's tummy while he folded the straps of the diaper up. Dean giggled, the first happy sound he'd made since before Castiel had left. It was wonderful to hear.

"Hey baby boy," he said quietly. Dean seemed more lucid than before, so it was worthwhile trying to talk to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Back hurts," Dean mumbled, blinking slowly. He suddenly seemed to register who he was talking to. "Daddy! You're home!"

"I told you I would come home, Dean."

"And - your grace?" Even with his cheeks flushed from the fever, Dean looked concerned. 

"I'm fine now. My grace has been fully restored. I'm healed." 

In spite of the reassurance, Dean continued to stare at him. Knowing that he wouldn't be content until he'd seen proof, Castiel pulled his button-up shirt open so that Dean could see the lack of bandages on his midsection. He was promptly subjected to a very thorough inspection. Dean even reached out to touch, as though not certain he could believe what his eyes were telling him. When he was convinced that Castiel was healed, his shoulders slumped and fresh tears welled up in his eyes.

"Daddy." His voice broke.

"Shh. I'm okay, little one, I promise." Castiel pulled him into a careful hug. Now wasn't the time to have a discussion with Dean, not when the baby was still burning up and in pain. That could wait until later, after Dean was feeling better.

Still holding Dean tightly, he stood up and went into the kitchen. Dean had eaten next to nothing since they'd left Bobby's house, refusing all offers of food, water, milk and juice, but Gabriel had left some prepared bottles on the counter just in case. Castiel picked up a bottle filled with milk and grace and carried Dean back into the living room. Instead of sitting down on the couch, he settled them both on the chair with Dean leaning against him, chest to chest.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Dean shook his head silently.

"You need to eat. Some grace might make you feel better. Here." He offered the bottle, holding it an angle that would make it easy for Dean to latch on. 

"Don't wanna."

"It's not up for discussion, Dean. You have to eat."

"But I don't wanna!"

"Dean." Castiel felt awful using his stern voice when Dean was feeling so miserable, especially when more tears slipped down Dean's cheeks. But it worked. Dean tipped his head forward and daintily took the nipple into his mouth, sucking on it a couple of times. But he soon retreated, making a face.

"It's cold," he complained.

Castiel warmed it with a spark of grace. "Try it now."

This time, Dean obeyed without complaint. Evidently the bottle was more to his liking, because he kept sucking and swallowing. Castiel held him close and murmured the occasional bit of praise, tipping the bottle up when necessary to help. He was pleased to see Dean consuming something, even if it was just some milk.

That was, of course, when Dean suddenly pulled back, blinked a couple of times, and then threw up all over both of them. It was so unexpected that Castiel just sat there, shocked. Dean, on the other hand, burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, scrambling to try and get off Castiel's knee. Castiel snapped out of it and grabbed him just in time, saving the disoriented baby from being dumped backwards onto the floor.

"It's okay. It's not your fault, baby. It was mine," Castiel said quickly, belatedly realizing that - considering everything he had been through over the past two days - milk was too heavy for Dean's tummy right now. 

Dean shook his head. "M'sorry, I'll drink the rest." He tried to grab the bottle. Castiel made it disappear before Dean could get to it. He took care of the vomit at the same time.

"No, Dean. If you drink the rest of it, you'll only throw it up again. I'm sorry. I should've given you water instead." 

"But..." Dean trailed off, more tears falling down his cheeks. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before giving up, crumbling forward and crying weakly into Castiel's chest.

It was difficult to see him this way. Castiel had a little more experience with seeing the Winchesters in pain and not being able to do anything about it - back in the days of the Apocalypse, when he was cut off from heaven and couldn't replenish his grace, Sam and Dean had often gotten themselves wounded. He remembered the frustration of being unable to help while they doctored their own wounds.

But this was different. Now Dean was his hatchling. He was Castiel's responsibility. And it hurt knowing that, even with his grace restored, he was still helpless to solve the source of Dean's pain. All he could do was help Gabriel to apply the oil and comfort Dean, but it seemed like now he wasn't even doing a very good job at that. Dean had put so much trust into him and Castiel was letting him down.

He didn't understand what the burning behind his eyes met, or why the room was blurring, until a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He had never cried before; angels had their own way of expressing sorrow and grief. This was a different kind of ache, though, one that couldn't be fixed by connecting to his brethren and letting their song soothe his grace. He left a trembling hand and set it on Dean's head.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he whispered, wanting to say more. Wanting to say that from now on he would be more prepared, that he would do things differently, that he would protect his baby from all the pain in the world. But he couldn't. For one thing, that would be a lie. The pain, terrible though it was, was necessary. And for another, Dean didn't need to be burdened with Castiel's pain right now.

He stayed there, saying nothing else, until Dean's tears finally stopped several minutes later. It was about that time that Gabriel reappeared, holding a bag filled with cheeseburgers and fries and two milkshakes. The cheerful smile slid off his face when he caught sight of Castiel and Dean, and it was about that moment that Castiel realized that he hadn't bothered to wipe the tears from his face. 

"Everything okay?" Gabriel asked, keeping his voice down. Dean still startled, lifting his head and turning to look at his uncle.

"Uncle Gabe!" he said, holding his arms up, and Gabriel smiled again as he set the food down and came over to give Dean a careful hug. Castiel took the opportunity to remove all evidence of the tears.

"Hey honey. You feeling any better?"

"Yup," Dean said, which was so obviously a blatant lie that Gabriel and Castiel shared an exasperated look.

"Tell you what," Gabriel said, tapping Dean on the nose. "I brought some supper back for me and your daddy. Do you think you could drink a bottle?"

"We tried milk," Castiel said before Dean could respond. "It didn't go well."

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "How about water?"

"Worth a shot. It would be good for him to keep something down." That was what Castiel should have started with, but there was no point in continuing to beat himself up about it. He would know better continuing on, and that was the best he could do.

"Daddy?" Dean said as Gabriel went into the kitchen.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I have my bee?"

Castiel had to smile. Either, like all children, Dean had already forgotten what had just happened, or he had been forgiven. "Of course."


	41. Chapter 41

"Are you ready, Dean?"

Shakily, eyes wide, Dean nodded. He was trying to pretend that none of this was bothering him, but he was pretty sure his daddy and uncle could see straight through him. He eyed the angel blade in Castiel's hand and told himself, not for the first time, that this was no different than sewing up a gash or setting a broken bone. Sometimes you had to hurt yourself a little bit to heal in the long run; that was a lesson his father had taught to him when he was young. 

He twisted away, knowing that sometimes it was better - and easier - not to look at what was happening. Gabriel was kneeling on the bed beside him, and he leaned over Dean and set his hands on Dean's arms to hold him down. His grip was so strong. There was no way Dean would be able to get free. The realization kicked his heart rate up. He pressed his face into the pillows on Castiel's bed and tried not to tense up, but that was next to impossible when he sensed Castiel getting closer. The bed sank beside him as Castiel put a knee up for balance, and Dean could feel both angels staring intently at his back.

It was so quick, he barely registered the pain at first. Just pressure along his shoulder blades - pressure that logically, he knew was from the angel blade. Then there was something hot and wet flowing down his back, and Castiel's hands on his back. The pain hit then, so sharp that it took his breath away. He couldn't have screamed even if he wanted to, but tears rushed to his eyes. Dean bit his lip until it bled and dug his nails into his thighs as Castiel did - _something_ behind him. He couldn't even identify what was being done, or what it was being done to. His brain was too scrambled, receiving brand new messages from unknown appendages, and it was overwhelming.

"Shh, Dean, shh," Gabriel whispered, still holding him down. He stooped, putting his head down on top of Dean's. "You're doing so good, kiddo. We're almost done. Just a little bit longer and your wings will be out."

Dean bit his lip harder to stifle the whimpers and tried to think about something else. Anything else. He found himself remembering the earlier days of becoming a hunter, back when he and his father had been doing everything they could to make sure that Sam stayed innocent. Something that Sam had never once thanked them for, because he'd been too pissed that he was still too young to help out. Which meant going out on hunts when Sam was in school or otherwise occupied, unless Dean wanted to have days of the silent treatment. It meant suffering in silence, never saying a word when he was exhausted or in pain but Sam was around.

He remembered one incident in particular. John was hunting a wendigo, and it was just too much for him to take down on his own. So Dean had gotten the chance to help. He'd been so frigging proud, too. Right up until he got a little too close to the wendigo and it flayed his side open like his flesh was made of hot butter. The pain had been the same: that momentary disconnect where your body knew what had happened but your mind couldn't process it. John had taken advantage of the wendigo's distracted state to torch it, and then had dragged Dean's ass back to the motel room. Being lectured while having stitches put in with no anesthetic, all while trying to remain quiet so his little brother wouldn't hear, was pretty high up on the list of crappy memories.

But he'd survived that. He would make it through this, too, and not be such a damn baby about it. All nestlings went through this, according to Gabriel. It was just a part of the process. And Dean was a hunter, no stranger to pain. He struggled to regulate his breathing, hearing John's lecture in his head all over again.

_"I warned you about hunting, Dean. This is what happens when you don't keep your wits about you. You can't let them get the drop on you. Stop crying right now! It's just some stitches. You want to wake Sam up? Get him all freaked out about the sight of blood? You know he doesn't handle it well. So knock it off. Go on now, recite everything you know about wendigos. Then tell me everything you learned tonight. It'll take your mind off the pain. And if you convince me you've actually learned something, I might let you come with me again next time."_

He still didn't know if he'd convinced John that he'd learned something, but his father had taken him out on the very next hunt anyway. And Dean sure as hell never got within reaching distance of a wendigo's claws again. Pain was a lesson, even if the lesson was just that sometimes you had to suffer. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the next wave of tears, and dug his nails into his skin harder as a distraction.

It seemed to take forever before Castiel stopped manipulating his wings. His wings. That was a fucked up sentence. But Dean couldn’t help breathing a quivery sigh of relief when the hands finally left his wings. It was strange to feel them against his back, but what was even stranger was in some ways it wasn't strange at all. Part of him had been expecting this for a long time, and now that it had happened it was more like - oh yeah, _there_ you are. Like suddenly getting a new arm or leg, except he didn't really know how to control them yet.

Gabriel's grip on his arms finally eased, but Dean still didn't move. He stayed still and quiet while more of Castiel's wing oil was rubbed onto his back and onto his wings, which eased the pain. Weirder still was that the pain which had been so agonizing over the past few days now seemed like nothing compared to the blinding pain of having his wings actually come out. Or maybe it just wasn't that bad now. He didn't know. Already it was starting to feel like something that had happened a long time ago, instead of mere minutes. 

"Dean?" Castiel said, shifting higher up the bed. "Baby, look at me."

Dean didn't want to. It was easier to stay where he was, hidden away from the world, reminding himself over and over that he was a hunter and pain was part of the life. But he also knew that Castiel was stubborn and wouldn't give up that easily. Slowly, ready to freeze if anything hurt, Dean turned his head. He found himself looking into his daddy's kind face. There was so much sympathy and affection in that expression that the lump in Dean's throat got a lot bigger, and the urge to cry got even stronger. It took everything he had to hold back the tears. 

Castiel inhaled sharply when he saw Dean's face. "Oh, little one. I'm sorry." He put his thumb to Dean's chin, firmly tugging Dean's bottom lip free of his teeth. Like that was the stopper keeping everything locked up, Dean heard himself make a weird sound that was a cross between a whimper and a sob. His vision started to blur as tears welled up.

And he didn’t _want_ to cry. He wanted to handle this the way he would’ve before. But he couldn’t make it stop either. His body was completely out of his control, and that was frightening. It had been happening more and more now, and he didn’t think it was going to stop anytime soon. Sure he’d known this was going to happen, but there was a big difference between knowing something with your mind and actually having it happen. His heart was racing so hard, his hands were shaking.

“It’s okay. It’s over. You did so good, Dean, so good,” Castiel cooed, helping him to sit up and then pulling him into a hug. Dean didn’t really want to be touched, but he was trembling too hard to pull away. His chest felt tight, making breathing difficult. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Gabriel said.

“He’s panicking,” Castiel said quietly. “I think it’s just been too much for him. Shh, baby boy, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He kissed Dean’s forehead and rocked him back and forth a little. 

It was humiliating to need support like this after he’d spent most of his life learning how to take swings and keep going. Dean tried to gather the strength to push himself away and couldn’t, but felt dizzier for having tried. The room was spinning a little and the shaking in his hands still hadn’t abated. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but nothing was going in or out.

“Dean, listen to me. Listen to my voice. You’re okay. I know that was a lot for you to go through. I know it hurt. I know you’re exhausted. But I’m really proud of you. You were so strong.”

That was so at odds with what was going through Dean’s head that he opened his eyes and stared at Castiel in disbelief.

Castiel smiled sadly. “You were strong,” he repeated, touching his thumb to Dean’s bottom lip and healing the damage. “You stayed as still as you could and you didn’t try to fight me. You were really good, Dean. I know what you’re thinking. You think you should be able to go through something like that in stoic silence, and not need comfort afterwards, right?”

Sometimes Dean forgot he was living with an angel who could read his mind that easily. 

“But you’re wrong, honey, and your father was wrong to teach you that. It doesn’t matter how old you are, or whether or not you’re a hunter; when you’re hurting or in pain, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to need help from your family. You don’t have to keep quiet about it. And that goes double for little boys like you.” He wiped some of the tears from Dean’s face. “That’s why I’m here, because I care about you. Nothing could ever make me think less of you, Dean.”

Dean didn’t really think that was true, but he was so tired he couldn’t string together the words to argue about it. He didn’t want to talk, anyway: sometimes it was just easier to be quiet. He could breathe a little easier now – Castiel’s voice really was soothing – but he was familiar enough with his body to know that his legs would probably go out from under him if he tried to walk. He turned his head to try and get a look at the wings on his back. 

“You want to see?” Gabriel had sat back while Castiel was calming him down. Now, he smiled at Dean and snapped his fingers.

A full length mirror materialized behind Dean, giving him a perfect view. It wasn’t at all what he had expected. Protruding from his back were two fleshy lumps about the length of his forearm. There were no feathers, and they weren’t nearly long enough to support his weight for flying. They looked gross, and his panic instantly ricocheted back up the scale. 

“Dean. Dean! It’s fine, your wings are supposed to look like that,” Castiel said quickly. “Angels are altricial. That means our young are born without feathers. They’ll grow in soon. And then your wings will grow. All hatchlings and nestlings start out with wings this size; you're just a baby.”

“I don’t like them,” Dean whispered miserably. Thinking about it, Castiel was right: all the nestlings and hatchlings he’d seen had tiny wings. He didn’t know why he hadn’t put two and two together before. Somehow he’d still been expecting that his wings would be enormous and ready to take him flying as soon as they emerged. He didn’t like the thought that his wings still had a lot of growing to do.

He turned back to Castiel and froze, eyes growing wide as whatever words had been on his tongue completely disappeared. Because for the first time since his wings had come out, he was really looking at an angel – and he could see _wings_. The dark, glossy feathers on Castiel’s wings were beautiful and soft, and they were wrapped protectively around Dean. He stared down at them, speechless, not even daring to reach out and touch. _He could see an angel’s wings_.


	42. Chapter 42

The removal of Dean's wings, difficult as it was, helped with the amount of pain Dean was in, but his fever still hadn't broken by that night. Castiel spent the day doing his best to soothe a cranky, overwrought, _exhausted_ baby, knowing that Dean was still in too much pain to sleep. Even though sleep was really what he needed the most. No amount of oil applied to his back, bottles, baths or bouncing succeeded in getting Dean to settle down. The one (and only) time Castiel almost got Dean to fall asleep, he made the mistake of taking a single step towards the door of the bedroom. Just one step, but Dean snapped awake and began to whimper immediately because he was terrified of being left alone.

Needless to say, it was a very long day and he was at his wits end by the time it ended. The nest was beginning to feel crowded, even though it was the same size that it had always been, and Dean still wasn't showing any signs of going to sleep. He was getting snappy now, alternately wanting to be left alone with no one touching him and panicking when Castiel got more than a couple steps away. It was the difference between the stoic, hunter side of him and the baby side, and, while Castiel could appreciate how difficult the confliction would be, that made it no less frustrating. He had to bite his own tongue a couple times to keep from ordering Dean to go to sleep, because no matter what age he was Dean Winchester did not respond well to orders.

"Father give me strength," Castiel muttered, taking a deep breath. He could smell food, which meant that Gabriel was either cooking or had left to bring back take out. He didn't think there was any point in trying to get Dean to eat right now. With the exception of juice or water mixed with grace, Dean had been throwing up everything he ate. His body was just going through too many changes. It would be easier now that his wings had finally emerged, but that would take a couple of days. And it would be longer still before Dean actually felt hungry.

Castiel looked down at his little one and sighed at the sight of Dean's red-rimmed eyes. The bruises under his eyes, which had been fading away, were back in full force. His cheeks were flushed, but the rest of his face was pale. His body radiated a dry heat. It was hard to see him like when normally Castiel would've been able to deal with a cold or fever very easily. He set a hand on Dean's forehead, absently noticing that Dean was in need of a haircut. His hair had grown quite a bit, since he hadn't gotten it cut for a long time, and before long he'd be giving Sam a run for his money. Maybe when Dean was feeling better, they could make a trip back to the mall.

In fact, a trip outside sounded immensely appealing. Castiel didn't know why he hadn't thought about it sooner. There was only one other thing that had proven to be effective in getting Dean to fall asleep, and though the circumstances were different this time Castiel could only pray that it would work as well this time as it had last time. He took Dean into the bedroom and changed his diaper, not even trying to put anything else on him since Dean was being less than cooperative at the moment, then carried him out into the hallway. H pulled the stroller out of the closet and very gently set Dean down on his tummy. Dean frowned, pushing himself up on his elbows to scowl up at Castiel.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, starting to get up. Castiel stopped him with a hand to the back of his neck.

"We're going for a walk," he replied, pushing Dean back down. "I think the fresh air will do you good. You've been inside the nest for several days now." He avoided mentioning that Dean wasn't the only one who needed a little bit of a break. That would only serve to make Dean feel guilty about being a burden.

"Good idea," Gabriel said, startling them both. 

"But... you can't. What if there are demons out there?" Dean was clearly trying to look and sound calm, but he was failing miserably.

"There's not. I reinforced the wards, kiddo," Gabriel said reassuringly. "No demons can get in or out without me and your daddy knowing about it. You two will be perfectly safe."

Dean still didn't look convinced, but Castiel was able to get him to lay back down. He pulled the soft blue blanket as high up around Dean as he could, mindful of Dean's wings, and made sure that Dean had his fox and his bee. Gabriel took a pacifier from his pocket and pushed it into Dean's mouth, then walked back into the kitchen. Castiel strongly suspected that he and Dean weren't the only ones who needed a break, which was why he hadn't suggested that Gabriel come with him. He easily lifted the stroller and carried it down the front steps without jostling Dean too much, setting it down again on the gravel. It was a beautiful night, with the stars and moon overhead, not too cool.

"Just relax, little one," he said quietly, smoothing a hand over Dean's hair before he pulled the top of the stroller up a little bit. He wanted Dean to get some fresh air, but he didn't want him getting chilled. 

Castiel started to walk, pushing the stroller ahead of him. It was the first time he'd gotten the chance to see what kind of effect it would have on Dean, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it before - though the jostling probably would've been too painful before Dean's wings came out. What he was seeing now was adorable. In spite of Dean's best efforts to stay awake, his eyes slowly started to flutter shut. He jerked awake once or twice, even reaching up to rub at his tired eyes or squirming into a different position, but within ten minutes his head was on the pillow and he was asleep, the only sign of movement his pacifier when he gave it the occasional, lazy suck.

"Thank you, Father," Castiel muttered, rolling his shoulders as a lot of tension drained away. His next step would've been to load Dean into the back of the Impala to take him for a drive, but he didn't think Dean would be on board with Castiel or Gabriel driving his precious baby. That probably would’ve gotten him more wound up, not less. 

He made a couple of slow circuits around the nest, enjoying the peace. Taking care of Dean was harder than he’d ever imagined it would be. He didn’t regret taking Dean as his hatchling, of course. Every day was a new struggle to break down the thick walls Dean had surrounded himself with. Sometimes it felt like they were taking one step forward and three steps back – like right after Dean’s wings had come out and he’d been trying so hard to play the part of the stoic hunter. 

But they had come a long way. Dean didn’t drink himself to sleep every night anymore. In fact, aside from the little bit of beer he’d consumed at Bobby’s, he hadn’t had any alcohol in months. Which was truly an accomplishment, as Dean’s dependency on alcohol to get him through the memories of hell had bordered on addiction. He also didn’t go for days without eating or sleeping now, or push the Impala to truly dangerous speeds in an effort to outrun the thoughts in his head. 

Most importantly, he wasn’t throwing himself into hunts. Except for the time he’d spent in hell, this was easily the longest Dean had ever gone without hunting. Castiel was aware that Dean missed it sometimes; hunting was in his blood, and both Dean and Sam would always feel that itch. But it would be a while yet before Dean was physically capable of hunting – mentally, he was just too little right now – but in time, with grace and training behind him, he would be an even more capable hunter than before. 

Castiel looked forward to that day. He adored taking care of Dean, and watching Dean learn that it was okay to be a baby wasn’t an experience he wanted to end anytime soon, but at the same time Dean would be formidable when he was grown. His wings were just the first step to getting there. They were useless right now, but once Dean grew feathers and began to exercise his wings they would grow quickly. Though he suspected it would be a feat to teach Dean to fly, since Dean wasn’t a big fan of flying in the first place.

All of that, though, was a long ways off. Dean had taken well to the grace, but mentally he was still struggling. The grace had helped to suppress his nightmares, but that didn’t meant they were gone. A lot of the trauma from his childhood and hell was still there. He wondered, as he turned the stroller back towards the house, if Dean would be willing to talk about what had happened to him in hell now. Probably not. If anything, Dean would probably be even _more_ reluctant to talk about it because he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. 

He reached the nest and paused, pushing back the cover. Dean was sleeping deeply enough that it was probably safe to move him, but Castiel hesitated to. The skin around his wings was red and swollen and looked painful, and being picked up would probably wake him. In the end, Castiel held onto the stroller and flew into the kitchen. He landed beside the table and sat, absently pulling the stroller over to him. Gabriel turned around from where he was standing at the stove and grinned.

“Hey bro. Go check out the nursery.”

“What did you do?” Castiel said, instantly suspicious. When Gabriel’s grin just grew wider, Castiel stood up and went to go look, leaving Dean with his uncle. His eyes widened when he saw Dean’s bedroom. Apparently while they were gone, Gabriel had slipped out and returned with all of the purchases from their shopping trip. The new furniture in particular looked wonderful. He was especially pleased to see the rocking chair, changing table, and the new bed, which – as per his request – had been fitted with bars on all four sides to eventually change it into a crib.

He moved closer and ran his fingers over the end, pleased when the bed began to vibrate at the touch of grace. Hopefully that and the mobile would go a long towards helping Dean sleep better at night. He moved on to investigating the two sets of drawers, which were fully stocked with everything from diapers, baby wipes, ointment and spare pacifiers to clothing, and the bookcase. The rocking chair moved soundlessly at a gentle push, and the changing table was easily sturdy enough to support Dean’s weight. Keziel’s skills were truly remarkable.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” he said when he returned to the kitchen. Gabriel was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich. His right foot was on the stroller, pushing it back and forth. 

“No problem. Rachel contacted me a couple of days ago, but I didn’t have the chance to go until now. It was good timing. The old bed was pretty much a write-off anyway,” Gabriel replied. “I have to scoot up to heaven for a little while, so I wanted to get that done before I went.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe.”

Castiel frowned. “You don’t sound sure.”

“That’s because I’m not. It’s probably nothing, but I haven’t been back for a while anyway. Wouldn’t want Raphael thinking he can get the drop on me.” Gabriel smirked a little.

“Be careful,” Castiel said.

“It’ll be fine, baby bro. Don’t worry so much.”


	43. Chapter 43

It was a miserable day outside, but that didn't stop Dean from scooting out onto the front porch at the first opportunity. He needed a moment to himself, and so long as he could hear Castiel moving around in the room behind him, he could keep the panic at bay. He sat down on the porch swing, looking out at the rain. It was falling hard enough that the edge of the forest was barely visible, even though it was only twenty feet away. The sound of the rain against the roof was oddly soothing, and he found himself slowly relaxing. The past couple of days had not been pleasant.

Foolishly, he'd thought that having his wings come out would solve everything. Angels had wings, so that meant having wings would make him a full angel. He wouldn't need diapers or bottles or any of that crap anymore; he'd be a hunter again, but a better one. Except that hadn't happened at all. His body was still ludicrously weak, as though it had taken every ounce of strength he possessed just to get the wings out. He got tired doing the least little things, like walking from his bedroom to the kitchen, and Castiel had told him he was still running a fever. It was infuriating. Angels and hunters alike were supposed to be strong, but Dean was feeling more little than ever.

He brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. His wings still ached, too. Not nearly as bad as before, but a pain he was more familiar with: like he'd pulled several muscles in both his wings and the surrounding area. He didn't know how much longer that would go on for. Frankly, he was afraid to ask. He didn't know how much longer he could put up with the dull throb that got so much worse when he forgot himself. Sometimes he'd twitch a wing, still unused to these new appendages, and it was just short of agony. Castiel's wing oil helped, but only so much.

In short, Dean was not in a good mood, and he needed a few minutes away from his daddy. Castiel's guilt was blatantly obvious to anyone who looked at him, and while it was nice having someone fuss over him for the first time that he could remember, it was also a little suffocating. Which was exactly why he'd snuck out onto the porch in the first place. It was hard not having Castiel in his direct line of sight, though. Even with Castiel making sounds behind him, part of him was still convinced that Castiel had fled back to heaven the moment Dean turned his back.

"Fuck, this blows," he muttered, closing his head and pressing his forehead to his knees, wishing he could curl into a tiny ball and only come out when this was all over. His _ugly_ wings weren't helping the whole situation, either. Every time he caught a glimpse of the disgusting fleshy lumps, Dean cringed. 

"Better not let your daddy hear you talking like that, little man."

Dean's head snapped up, a frightened yelp catching in his throat. He recognized Balthazar immediately, of course, as well as the angel standing behind him (the human woman standing further back was unfamiliar, though), but that didn't mean they were a welcome sight. Panic welled up in his chest at the sight of Anael. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been brainwashed by heaven and had been trying to kill Mary in 1978 to make sure that Dean and Sam were never born. The fact that she was standing here, smiling at Dean, did not bode well, but he didn't have any weapons on him.

"Relax," Balthazar said, and then raising his voice, "Cassie!"

Castiel was at the door immediately, his eyes widening. "Balthazar? What -" Dean whimpered when he saw Castiel's angel blade slip down into his hand, his breathing picking up. Oh god, there was going to be another battle right here in front of him and the same thing was going to happen all over again -

"I come in peace," Anael said, raising her hands. "Father resurrected me several months ago. I mean you and your hatchling no harm, Castiel, I promise."

For several tense seconds, Castiel stared at her. Dean squirmed as the air prickled; it made his wings hurt, like someone was poking at them with dozens of tiny pins. Then, abruptly, Castiel nodded. His weapon disappeared and he moved over to the swing, easily lifting Dean into his arms and pressing a soothing kiss to his temple. "She's telling the truth, Dean," he murmured. "She's not here to hurt us."

Then why was she here? It was a question he couldn't force out, not when his throat was still clogged with panic. He buried his face in Castiel's shoulder and tried to remember how to breathe. And then, once he'd stopped shaking like a stupid little kid, he was glad his face was hidden because he was mortified. At one point, when Anael had still been Anna, he'd had sex with her. He could remember that night in the backseat of the Impala like it was yesterday, Anna naked underneath him, her smile tinged with knowing as she touched Dean everywhere except for the handprint on his shoulder. And now she was seeing him in nothing but a diaper and a onesie, not even close to being the hunter - the man - she'd known then.

"I know I should've talked to you about this first, Cassie, but honestly I thought it would be good for the baby," Balthazar said, breaking the silence. 

"You mean to tell me you just sprung this on them with no warning? Damn it, Bal!"

"Ow!"

There was an unfamiliar giggle, and then Anael's annoyed voice saying, "I'm sorry, Cas. I wouldn't have come if I'd realized you didn't know."

"Why are you here?" Castiel asked.

"Balthazar asked me to. He said that your hatchling was having a hard time adjusting to the process. He thought it would be a good idea if Dean had the chance to talk to Charlie. She's only a couple months further along than Dean, but they're right around the same age. And frankly, Charlie's a little lonely. There's only so many games we can play together before she gets bored, and I thought - " Anael broke off to sigh. "Never mind. This was a dumb idea, and I'll get you for this, Balthazar. Come on, Charlie."

"Wait," Castiel said, shifting Dean's weight onto his hip. "Charlie, is it?"

"Yup!" The voice was bright and young, physically younger than Dean at any rate. "Mommy said I could come talk to someone just like me, but it doesn't look like he wants to play."

"He's just shy."

Dean scowled. He wasn't _shy_. He was a hunter. It was natural to grab onto the first weapon that you came across in a dangerous situation. It just so happened that in this case, Castiel was the first thing that counted as a weapon that had come close to him. That's all. The fact that he didn't have to look at Anael was just a bonus. But the truth was she'd already seen him, and the longer he sat here and clung to Castiel, the more embarrassed he'd get. There was just no saving face in a situation like this. But he'd deny to his dying day that he was _shy_. Slowly, he lifted his head and turned to look at their guests.

Balthazar was standing off to the, making apologetic faces at Castiel, and Dean disregarded him entirely in favor of looking at Anael and Charlie. Anael was smiling at him, and he'd never seen her smile quite like that before: so kind and friendly. He looked at her for a long time, searching for any signs of maliciousness, but she didn't look evil. And her wings, which were a very pretty shade of bronze that shone even when there was no sun, were wide open in a way that Dean had come to learn meant she was trying to show she meant no harm. Just as she'd held her hands up to show that she had no weapons.

Right now, she had an arm around Charlie's shoulders. Charlie was a little shorter than Dean, with a head of hair every bit as bright as Anael's vessel. She was wearing blue jeans and a bright purple tank top, which only drew attention to the tiny purple wings on her back. The wings fluttered excitedly under Dean's gaze, and Charlie grinned excitedly at him. "Hi!"

"Hi," Dean said awkwardly.

"I'm Charlie," Charlie said. "What's your name?"

"Dean."

"It's nice to meet you," Charlie said, sounding like she was reciting the line from a script. "Do you want to play? I know lots of cool games."

"What kind of games?" Dean asked, curious in spite of himself. 

"I'll show you!" Charlie stepped forward, letting Anael's arm slide off her shoulders, and held a hand out to him. Dean hesitated. She didn't look like a threat, and Gabriel had said that the wards were really strong. Strong enough to keep out anything dangerous. 

"It's okay, Dean. Go ahead," Castiel murmured in his ear.

Dean glanced at him, then obeyed, slowly reaching out to grab Charlie's hand. As soon as Castiel set Dean down, Charlie towed him into the nest. She set a direct course for the toys Dean had been playing with before he'd slipped out onto the porch, which were some of the legos and cars that Castiel had bought him at the store. Charlie plunked herself down on her butt and looked admiringly at the castle Dean had built. It wasn't nearly complete, mostly because he'd gotten frustrated with how one of the towers kept falling down. He'd been trying to build it out of blocks, but it kept getting wobbly.

"That's really cool! Mommy says that until I learn to put my toys away, I don't get to have any legos. She says they're too annoying to step on."

"But she's an angel," Dean said, crouching down next to her.

Charlie shrugged. "I guess that doesn't matter," she said, picking up one of the blocks. It was big and colorful, with an Enochian symbol on the side. Dean had the sneaking suspicion they were the Enochian version of those babyish alphabet blocks, and in a moment of embarrassment, was half-tempted to knock it out of Charlie's hand. But she didn't seem to care. She set it on the ground beside a different block and started building a tower.

Gradually, fascinated with how Charlie was building the tower, Dean forgot to be embarrassed. He sat down on the floor and reached out for his lego castle to finish building it. When Charlie finished her castle, she crawled around to his other side and started helping him build with legos. It was a little weird to be sharing, because Dean had never really played with anyone before. By the time that Sam was old enough for them to play, he'd been in that stage where he wanted everything to be his and nothing to be Dean's. It was easier to just go along with it rather than risk upsetting his little brother. So play time often consisted of Dean sitting off to the side and watching while Sam played happily.

Charlie wasn't like that at all. The one time she grabbed a lego out of Dean's hand, Anael called out immediately, "Charlie!" and Charlie winced, looked around guiltily, and said, "Sorry, Dean."

"That's okay," Dean said. He looked at the spot where she'd been about to put the lego and gently set it down, letting it click into place. "That was a good place for it anyway."

She smiled at him. "So who lives in our castle?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone's gotta live here! I bet it's a really cool queen," Charlie said, her eyes going big and shiny. "And I bet she has magical powers. She can rule over everybody. Queen Charlie!"

"What about me?" Dean said, more curious than anything.

"You can be my handmaiden," Charlie said decisively, jumping to her feet. She touched his forehead with a block and declared, "I dub thee Handmaiden Dean."

Dean pulled back from the block. "I'm a boy. Boys can't be handmaidens."

"Why not?"

He opened his mouth and then paused, uncertain. "Because... they can't."

"That's a dumb rule. I'm the queen and I say anyone can be a handmaiden," Charlie said, putting her hands on her hips. She looked so certain that Dean found himself nodding in agreement. He didn't know what being a handmaiden entailed, but it sure sounded like a lot of fun.


	44. Chapter 44

Being a handmaiden basically meant being a servant, but Dean found he didn’t mind. Charlie’s excitement was infectious, and she wasn’t the kind of queen to hide behind her servants. Oh no. She was right there beside him as they battled against the invaders that were trying to storm their castle. The fact that the invaders were being played by a handful of army men, two stuffed dragons, a little blue boat made it no less satisfying when the enemies were finally defeated.

“Success!” Charlie squealed, throwing one last stray lego. Her face was flushed and she was grinning madly, wings aloft and quivering. She strutted over to the stuffed dragons and stood over them, hands on hips, but she looked back at Dean. “Good job, Handmaiden Dean. You helped your queen to protect your castle. For that, you deserve a reward.”

“A reward?” Dean echoed. “What kind of reward?”

“How about cookies?” Anael said, and Dean jumped. He hadn’t even noticed her approaching. He dropped the handful of legos he was still holding, suddenly embarrassed by how caught up he’d gotten in Charlie’s story. 

“Cookies?” Charlie said, her eyes lighting up. 

“That’s right. You two have been hard at work, but I think it’s time for a snack and maybe a nap.”

Charlie screwed her face up. “No nap.”

“Yes nap.”

Charlie eyed her. “Can I have three cookies then?”

Anael was clearly trying not to laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Charlie said seriously. She lifted her arms. “Mommy, wet.”

Dean stared at her.

“You need a change first?” Anael said, not skipping a beat, and stepped past Dean to scoop Charlie up. Charlie cuddled into her unashamedly, wrapping her arms around Anael’s shoulders and doing a poor job of masking a yawn. She smiled sleepily at Dean as Anael carried her away, down the hall into the bathroom.

“Dean?”

At the sound of Castiel’s voice behind him, Dean turned quickly. He wasn't hearing anyone come up today; he really losing his touch. He opened his mouth to speak but paused when Castiel put a hand to his cheek and then his forehead. The touch felt nice. He hadn’t realized how warm he was until he felt the coolness of Castiel’s palm. He leaned into it, closing his eyes, still thinking about Charlie and the completely unselfconscious way in which she’d announced she was wet. Which meant she was wearing a diaper – and, presumably, not embarrassed about it.

“You’re a little warm,” Castiel murmured, wrapping a careful arm around Dean’s shoulders and bringing him in for a hug. “I think you could use a nap too.”

“Not sleepy,” Dean said, even though his eyes were still shut. This was the most activity he’d had for like two weeks, and truth be told, now that he had stopped, he was feeling a little sleepy. And his wings were hurting, too. The ache from before had deepened into true pain. 

Castiel noticed, of course. “I think you are. A diaper change, some wing oil, a snack, and then a nap are in short order for you, little one.”

The wing oil and snack were about the only things on that list Dean approved of. Castiel carried him down the hall and into his bedroom. It was way too painful for Dean to lie on his back on the changing table – which was good, because he didn’t know if he was ready for that level of mortification yet – so he was still being supported in midair by grace alone while he was changed. That was a little embarrassing, but the grace always felt so soothing on his skin it was hard to complain.

“Just relax, baby boy,” Castiel said softly, unsnapping the crotch of the onesie. He undid the tabs on the soiled diaper and removed it, tossing it into the garbage bin. He was quick but methodical, wiping Dean off and dusting him with baby powder. He slipped a new diaper into place and pressed the tabs down, then patted Dean’s tummy. “All done. I’ll do your wings now.”

Dean nodded, ready for the moment when the grace turned him over onto his belly. He put his head on his arms and sighed as the onesie was rolled up, and then came the first touch of wing oil to his throbbing back. Castiel had admitted that it was a lot easier to collect wing oil with Gabriel around, but it wasn’t impossible to do by himself – it was just more awkward because of the angle. But apparently he didn’t trust Balthazar or Anael enough to ask for their help: a fact that Dean appreciated. This was intimate, and he didn’t want anyone outside of Gabriel and Castiel seeing him like this.

He twitched when oily fingers touched his wings instead and squeezed his eyes shut. His wings were so ugly, he didn’t know how Castiel could bear to touch them. It didn’t help that they were so sensitive even the gentlest touch felt like sandpaper. Tears were stinging at his eyes by the time that Castiel was finished; even though the oil would help, it would take a couple of minutes before the soothing qualities of the wing oil had time to work. The process was ultimately worth it, but that didn’t mean Dean liked it.

Crying only made it worse. Impatiently he scrubbed at his eyes, hoping to remove any traces of his weakness before his daddy saw, but Castiel was too fast. Castiel rolled down the onesie and re-snapped it at the crotch. Then careful hands gathered Dean into a warm hug, and Castiel kissed him on the forehead. 

“What do you say we go have a snack with Charlie, hmm?”

“Can I have pie?” Dean asked, a little plaintively. He hadn’t been eating much lately, but he was always hungry for pie. Especially pie of the caliber that Gabriel could make. “Daddy, when’s Uncle Gabriel coming back?”

Castiel’s mouth twitched with a smile, but he answered readily enough. “We don’t have any pie, but we have cookies. And I don’t know, Dean. He said he had things to look after in heaven. I suppose he’s probably making sure that Raphael isn’t trying to do anything.”

“I want him to come back and make me pie.”

“I’ll let him know,” Castiel promised. “Do you miss him?”

“No,” Dean lied, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s neck. Truth be told, he did miss having Gabriel around a little. His uncle was _much_ more likely to let him get away with something than his daddy was. And Castiel always seemed more cheerful when Gabriel was around. Plus there was the added benefit that no demon would be stupid enough to come around with an archangel in the nest. 

“I don’t think you’re being honest,” said Castiel, but his warm tone belied his amusement. 

Dean didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, instead choosing to remain quiet as they returned to the kitchen. Balthazar was still there, reclining casually in one of the chairs with his blue wings coiled behind him. Anael was sitting opposite him, Charlie curled up in her lap. There was a plate of freshly baked cookies in the middle of the table, along with – Dean’s stomach twisted – two bottles of milk. As soon as Charlie saw them, her hand darted out and she grabbed a cookie.

“Charlie!” Anael said.

“You said I could have a cookie when Dean got here,” Charlie protested, stuffing the cookie in her mouth. She garbled something else that was unintelligible through her mouthful.

Anael rolled her eyes. “I meant once they were sitting down,” she said as Castiel sat down, placing Dean on his knees. “Charlie and I baked these cookies this morning, Dean. Do you like chocolate chip?”

The cookies looked appetizing, golden brown and studded with lots of chocolate, even though Dean wasn’t that hungry. Despite his earlier protest, he was actually getting really sleepy now that he wasn’t playing anymore. But manners kicked in, and he reached out to take a cookie with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Anael said. She was doing a lot of smiling at him, a lot more than she’d ever done before. It was kind of weird, but also nice. He bit into the cookie, discovering that it was still warm and crumbly. His stomach growled, and he decided maybe he could eat it after all.

Charlie scarfed down two more cookies quickly, and tried to steal a fourth before Anael grabbed her hand. “But Mommy,” Charlie whined.

“Our agreement was three, pumpkin, and that’s what we’re sticking with.” Anael picked up one of the bottles of milk and held it up. Charlie pouted but leaned forward, taking the nipple into her mouth and sucking. Dean watched her out of the corner of his eye and was reminded of the hatchling that he’d seen in the restaurant: completely unashamed, as though this was normal behavior to be doing in public with other people watching. It made his stomach feel all squirmy and he set the rest of his cookie down.

“Don’t you want anymore, Dean?” Castiel asked, sounding concerned. 

“No, thank you,” Dean said softly, looking down at the table. But before long, he gave into the temptation to keep watching Anael and Charlie. Anael was so affectionate, sweeping Charlie’s hair back and looking down at her with a tender expression. So motherly. And Charlie was thoroughly enjoying herself, letting Anael hold the bottle and curling into her guardian with one hand loosely clenched in Anael’s shirt. He didn’t know whether to be fascinated or disturbed.

"Okay. Then I guess it's time for a nap."

Dean didn't argue, not even when Castiel picked up the other bottle of milk. He crawled into his bed and settled down, wondering what it would be like to be held on Castiel's lap and fed a bottle the same way. Would it be weird? Embarrassing? Or maybe it would feel the same way as it did when Castiel picked Dean up and wrapped his wings around him: safe. Something in him wanted to ask for it just so that he could see, but he didn't have the nerve.

He accepted the bottle but didn't drink it just yet, cuddling down under the blankets with his bee and his fox. Castiel kissed his forehead, turned his mobile on and left the room, leaving the door open a bit. Dean closed his eyes, but he'd only been laying there for a few minutes when he heard the door creak. His heart sped up and he slipped a hand under his pillow, thinking to grab the gun he always slept with, but of course it wasn't there. There were no weapons in the house except for the knives in the kitchen and Castiel's angel blade. He was seconds away from yelling for his daddy when two bright eyes appeared above his bed. 

"Dean?"

"Charlie?" Dean said, trying not to show that she'd scared him.

Charlie stood up and climbed into the bed with him without asking, getting right under the blankets. She put her head on his pillow and whispered, "I was lonely. Mommy forgot my teddy bear."

"Oh," Dean said. "Um, I guess you can nap with me if you want."

"Thanks," Charlie said, smiling. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you not want to be a hatchling?"

Dean froze. He stared at the head of his fox. "I, um - it's always consensual, an angel can't -"

"Yeah, I know. An angel always has to have permission. That's not what I meant. You just - you don't seem to like any of it very much. You were embarrassed when my mommy and I got here. You were wet way before I was, but you didn't ask to be changed. And you wouldn't let your daddy give you a bottle."

"What - how did you -" Dean was so mortified he could barely get the words out.

"Your diapers are just like mine. There's a little line across the crotch that changes color when they're used," Charlie replied. "I saw it when you spread your legs. It's not a big deal."

"That's what you think. Look, I'm not a baby, okay?" Dean hissed.

"That's what I know," Charlie said bluntly, pinning him with an intent look. "Because you're wrong. You're still thinking of yourself in terms of a human. But you're not a human anymore, Dean, and no one's gonna judge you. That's all in your head. Whether you like it or not, you're an angel. A _baby_ angel. And the sooner you start letting go and learning to enjoy it and everything your daddy is offering you, the better off you'll be."


	45. Chapter 45

As Castiel returned to the table, Anael looked over at him. Guilt was written across her face. She said, “I really am sorry, Cas. I got caught up in the idea of Charlie finally having someone her own age to play with. I should have thought more about how uncomfortable it might make Dean, and I definitely should have asked you first before I took Balthazar’s word for it.”

“Hey,” Balthazar protested. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the point,” Anael said, shooting him a look. “I’m not just an angel to Dean. He knew me when I was a human. We were intimate. Just once, but still. That kind of thing matters to humans.” She went quiet for a moment, looking at the plate of mostly empty cookies. “I hope I haven’t set your progress with him back.”

“I’ll have to talk with him when he wakes up, but I think he’ll be okay,” Castiel replied. “To be honest, I’m not sure he’s realized yet that eventually, even around other humans, he’ll still be a hatchling. Even Bobby and Sam. He won’t have a choice in the matter.” He thought back to Dean’s last encounter with his family, when Dean had nearly wet himself in the kitchen. It was only Castiel’s and Gabriel’s quick thinking that had prevented that. Chances were Dean hadn’t put two and two together about what that meant for the future.

“Charlie was like that a little bit, but not nearly as bad. She actually adapted very quickly, but she doesn’t have a human family,” said Anael.

“I think Dean would be the same even if he didn’t have a family. It’s just the way he is.” Or rather, it was the way John Winchester had _made_ him be. Castiel had seen Dean’s whole life; he knew about every single time when John had demanded his sons ‘man up’. From the time that he was four years old, Dean had been told to act like an adult – and then had been given a twisted concept of what an adult even was. Even if Sam and Bobby weren’t around anymore, Dean’s macho self image would still be intact. 

Anael frowned. “I hate the thought of him suffering,” she said. “I know that we parted on very negative terms last time –”

“You did try to kill his mother,” Balthazar said. 

Anael kicked him and kept talking without skipping a beat. “- But he was always very sweet to me before that. I never would have guessed that he would be a hatchling, but after I got my grace back I could see it. And it made me so sad. I didn’t think he’d get the chance. I’m glad you were able to talk him into it, Cas.”

“So was I,” Castiel said simply, not bothering to go into details about how little convincing it had taken. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like Dean and Castiel had been engaged in a battle of wills for the past few months. But that wasn’t the case. Not when deep down, Dean really did want what was happening. Dean just didn’t think it was something that he was supposed to want, or that he deserved it.

“Can we consider this a successful test run, then?” Anael asked hopefully. “I’d love the chance to bring Charlie back for another playdate in the future.”

“Let me talk to Dean first. I’ll let you know.”

“That’s fair. I guess I should take Charlie and go then.”

“You can let them sleep for a little while longer,” Castiel said. They’d all seen Charlie sneaking down the hallway – the bright red hair was difficult to miss. He hoped that spending just a little more time with Charlie would help Dean to understand that there was nothing embarrassing or shameful about being a hatchling.

They talked for a little while longer, mostly about the state of heaven and hell – heaven was doing well under Gabriel’s rule, but hell was more of a mystery since Crowley hadn’t been seen much – before Anael stood up. Castie followed her down the hall and pushed the door open. He couldn’t help smiling at the sight. Dean was curled up in a ball facing away from them. Charlie was sprawled out on her back. Both of them were sound asleep and sucking their thumbs.

Anael crossed the floor silently and reached down to scoop Charlie up. Charlie stirred a little but didn’t wake up, and Dean slept on obliviously. Castiel came closer to the bed to pull the blanket up, not wanting Dean to catch a chill. It was still hard for him to sleep when the slightest movement caused painful cramps, so he wanted to let Dean sleep for as long as possible. He picked up Dean’s fox from the floor and set it back on the bed, straightening up just in time to see Anael smile.

“He’s been just as good for you as you are for him,” she whispered. “You have a purpose again, Cas. You needed that.”

Castiel nodded, glancing down at his slumbering hatchling. It was true. He’d been at a loss during much of the Apocalypse. His grace was failing, his search for God was going nowhere, and his usefulness to the Winchester brothers had been getting smaller by the day. He had no faith, no goals, no reason to exist. For an angel who had been created with one purpose in mind – to love God - that was terrifying. He would always be grateful to Dean for this chance. 

Of course, he could’ve returned to heaven with Gabriel and spent his time reinstating order after the chaos of the Apocalypse. He had done that for a little while, helping to smooth out the initial disorder. But although Castiel still loved heaven, he hadn’t completely come to terms with his banishment – or with the brothers and sisters he’d fought with. A lot of them still looked at him with distrust, and it had quickly grown uncomfortable. Living a life where you constantly had to watch your back grew tiresome very quickly.

He lifted his gaze to Anael and answered quietly. “It seems both of us have purpose now.” Looking at the protective way she was holding Charlie, he knew that she would understood what he meant. Some angels were interested in taking a nestling or hatchling only to help insure that their race didn’t die out. Love or affection didn’t enter into the equation. Anael wasn’t one of them.

She winked at him in response and carried Charlie out of the room. Castiel remained behind, closing his eyes and following the feeling of her grace as she left the nest and began walking to the perimeter of the wards. Only once she and Charlie had flown away did he open his eyes again. He turned Dean’s mobile on again and then slipped out of the room, finding Balthazar still in the kitchen. His brother was sipping from a glass of high quality scotch and looking very grim.

“You brought out the scotch. Something _must_ be wrong,” Castiel said. He wasn’t surprised. He’d suspected that there was another reason for Balthazar’s visit, but hadn’t wanted to bring it up in front of Anael. Though he trusted her to some extent, it was impossible to forget that she had nearly killed Dean and Sam just a couple of months ago. It would take time before he trusted her fully, and he didn’t think he would never be comfortable leaving Dean alone with her.

“That’s actually the problem,” Balthazar said. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Castiel sat down. “Come again?”

“No sulfur, no storms, no unusual cattle death, no souls going downstairs – or none more than usual, anyway. Gabriel and I have been looking, Cas. We can’t find any sign of any demons.”

“None at all?”

Balthazar shook his head, frustration growing. “Believe me, I’ve searched across the globe. Only thing I found was a couple of crossroads demons seducing a man into cheating on his wife.” He rolled his eyes.

“That’s not good,” Castiel muttered. Crowley was not the kind of demon to give up easily, especially now that he increased in power by gaining control of hell. The tentative truce that had existed between them and Crowley during the Apocalypse was, no doubt, broken now. Castiel and Dean had, for the most part, avoided any conflict so far by keeping to the heavily warded nest; Gabriel had angels keeping a constant eye on Sam.

If the demons that had attacked him and Dean were random, there was a good chance they’d gotten word out about Castiel’s and Dean’s location before their death. And if they weren’t random and this had been planned, then Crowley still knew where he and Dean were. As long as Castiel, Dean, Sam and Bobby were around, they were liabilities for Crowley’s operation. Changing the location of the nest made the most sense, but Castiel found himself loathe to do that.

He glanced around the kitchen. It had been a cold and sterile environment before Dean came to stay. Now there were bottles of grace on the counter waiting to be consumed, baby bottles and pacifiers drying by the sink, brightly colored pictures pinned up on the refrigerator, and crumbs on the floor. A handful of legos had somehow found their way to the corner, there was actual food in the cupboards, and there was a space at the table for a highchair – not that Dean was aware of that yet. It looked lived in. It was their home. 

They weren’t leaving. Castiel couldn’t in good conscience uproot Dean like that, not when Dean was finally settled and going so far as to let his guard down. Besides, he didn’t want to give Crowley an inch. Running away would just make Crowley think they were scared of him, when really it was the exact opposite. Castiel’s fingers itched with the urge to smite the demon and make sure that Crowley would never be a threat to Dean again.

Crowley was smart, though. He wouldn’t give Castiel that chance easily. He said, “They’re planning something. Crowley’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Undoubtedly. Either way, they’ll probably make another attempt at you and the baby. You should be careful about leaving the nest unless someone else is with you, Cas.”

“I will. I’m not going to tell Dean, though. It will just upset him.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? What if you get blindsided?”

“He couldn’t do anything last time,” Castiel said, glad that Dean wasn’t there to hear it. It was the truth, but it would be enough to make Dean think that he was failing somehow when he wasn’t. The truth was that Dean was in no position mentally or emotionally to be fighting or hunting right now, but he’d drive himself crazy with worrying if he thought that there was something dangerous out there. Castiel tried to imagine telling Dean that Crowley was out there plotting and winced. Yeah, that would not go over well.

Balthazar sighed into his drink. “True,” he conceded. “Gabriel said he’d be back within two or three days. Will you need anything before then?”

“We should be fine. Dean’s not feeling well enough to go anywhere anyway. And even if he was, he wouldn’t want to. He doesn’t like the way his wings look.”

“Self-conscious?”

“Very much so.” It hadn’t escaped Castiel’s notice that Dean tried not to look at his wings, and on the rare chance he did catch a glimpse of them, Dean always grimaced. No matter how many times Castiel told him that his feathers would soon grow in, it didn’t seem to matter.

“They are rather unattractive in that state.”

“Balthazar!”

Balthazar just chuckled and tossed back the rest of his drink. “Relax, Cassie. I have something in mind that I think might help.”

“What?” Castiel asked, but he was asking empty air. Balthazar was already gone. He scowled at the place where his brother had been, letting the mild annoyance push away the worry over the demons. Whatever Balthazar was planning, it would either go well or be a complete disaster.


	46. Chapter 46

When Dean woke up, Charlie was gone and the room was dark. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was still sleepy, but not to the point where he felt like going back to sleep. A quick glance out the window explained why: the moon was on the brightening horizon, which meant he'd slept straight through the afternoon, evening and it was almost time for the sun to come up. It had been ages since he'd slept for that long. Actually, he was pretty sure that hadn't happened since he got electrocuted and his heart started to fail, back before he and Sam encountered a Reaper for the first time. He was a little surprised that Castiel hadn't woken him up for supper.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, shivering in the cool air. His wings were extremely sensitive to the slightest change in temperature, and now he tended to get cold easily. He dragged his blanket off his bed and, in the process, unearthed both his bee and his fox, which had been hidden underneath the covers. He shivered again and scooped up both, clutching them to his chest and pressing his cheek against the bee for a moment. The warmth of the grace inside never ceased to be a comfort. 

The thought of how he would look right now to anyone who walked in made his stomach flip. He started to drop the stuffed toys back on the bed, but hesitated. Charlie's words were making him think twice about something he would have done automatically yesterday morning. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping the toys in his lap. All this time, he'd still kept thinking of himself as a human. As an adult male, even, one who was just going along with what were some pretty alternative lifestyle choices. He'd ignored a lot of the evidence to the contrary, preferring not to see what was staring him right in the face. He and Sam always did do denial better than anyone.

Charlie was right though, wasn't she? He wasn't a human anymore. Not really. Humans didn't have wings. They couldn't drink grace without being hurt. They weren't as strong as Dean was. He might have been a damn sight weaker than any angel, but he was also pretty sure he was stronger than any human had a right to be. He'd spent a lot of time worrying about what Bobby and Sam and the whole world would think, but he'd been pitting their opinions against the old Dean Winchester. The macho hunter who didn't really like emotions. Dean was still a hunter, and he still wasn't crazy about emotions, but everything under the surface had done a complete 360 in terms of change.

He closed his eyes. Castiel had been honest with him right from the start that Dean was going to end up as an angel. He'd gone into this with his eyes wide open. And yet somehow, it was still a surprise. Even though he'd thought to himself countless times over that the old Dean Winchester wouldn't cry at what felt like the drop of a hat, or willingly wear a diaper, or let an angel tuck him into bed at night. He'd told himself he wouldn't do any of those things, never counting on how much the grace would change him - well, the grace and the fact that someone actually loved him enough to want Dean to do all those things.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Sure, he'd been calling Castiel 'Daddy' all this time, and several times he'd even thought of Castiel that way... but it was like it hadn't consciously sunk in until now. Dean swallowed hard, holding the fox and the bee a little tighter, feeling lost. It was both freeing and scary to realize that he wasn't a human anymore. All the things he used to think were important hardly mattered now, and there really was no way of going back to the way it was before. He was a - how had Charlie put it? A baby angel now? Baby angels didn't live by the same standards Dean did.

The floor creaked and Dean's head snapped up to see that Castiel was standing in the doorway watching him. He had no idea how long Castiel had been there for, but the warm expression of compassion on Castiel's face was enough to make his eyes well up with tears. He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, but he held his arms up in a silent request for a hug. It was something he'd seen countless toddlers do, and never something he'd done without a little prick of embarrassment for acting so childishly. Now he wasn't sure how to feel and that was even more confusing.

Castiel crossed the distance between them in a handful of steps, taking a seat on the bed and pulling Dean, stuffed animals and all, into a big hug. "You're thinking some very heavy thoughts this morning, little one," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

Dean nodded instead of giving a verbal answer, pressing as much of himself into Castiel's embrace as he could. It felt even better when Castiel's wings wrapped around him as well. There was a level of security in having Castiel's wings and arms around him that Dean had never thought he would be able to attain. Even the confusion over what and who he was supposed to be didn't seem as bad now that Castiel was here, hugging him.

"You know I can read your thoughts," Castiel said against his hair, and Dean nodded again. "I try not to for the sake of your privacy. But when I felt you wake up so early this morning, I wanted to be sure you weren't having a nightmare. So I did. Dean, you know that Charlie is right. You're not a human anymore. You're a hatchling. That's what Gabriel and I have been trying to make you understand for the past several weeks. I guess we should've chosen a blunter way of saying it."

"No," Dean said, surprising them both. He didn't think that he'd been ready to hear that before now. "I just - it's big. Really big."

"I know. You're okay, though. I'm here. I have you. I'll always be here for you. The decision to become your guardian angel is not one I take lightly. I knew what it would entail when I approached you. I was always ready to put you first, even during the Apocalypse. From the moment I saved you from hell, you became the most important thing in my world. Asking you to be my hatchling just reaffirmed that. If anything, you're even _more_ important to me now. You're my hatchling, Dean, and that means you will always come first."

Logically, it all made sense. But what Dean was hearing was so completely at odds with what he was used to that it was hard to wrap his head around. Maybe back when Mary was alive, he hadn't played second fiddle. Sometimes he thought he could remember special times with just him and his mom, even after Sammy was born. 

But after the fire, Dean had always known that he came second behind Sam. Third, really, if he counted the fact that hunting was pretty much always priority number one in John Winchester's life. Sam might have put him first for a little while there, but that stopped after Sam ran off to university. And Bobby had always treated them both equally. He couldn't help pulling back a little to give Castiel a skeptical look.

To his credit, as though he hadn't spent weeks showing Dean how devoted he was, Castiel just smiled at him. "It's okay. I'll tell you that as many time as I need to. But Dean, you need to understand that your safety and wellbeing comes first. It's not your job to look after me. I can look after myself, and I also have Gabriel and even Balthazar to help me if I need it."

"But I can -"

"No," Castiel said, calm but firm, putting a finger to Dean's lips. "I know you can. But it's not your job. Your job is to be a baby angel, to play and laugh and learn and grow, for as long as it takes. It's _my_ job to love and look after you. That means, even if I have to come back from heaven a little early and delay my healing, you still come first. Even if it's just because you missed me too much, but especially if it's because you're getting your wings."

Oh. So that's what this was about. Dean dropped his gaze, stomach churning. He'd been kind of hoping that Castiel had forgotten about that little decision. "You were hurt," he said to his toys. "You needed to be up in heaven to get better."

"And I was getting better, but I would never put my health before yours. Even if I had stayed on Earth the whole time, I would have eventually healed. It would've made things complicated in regards to getting enough grace for you, but I would've found a way to manage. Dean, look at me."

Dean didn't want to. He kept his head down until Castiel's hand slipped under his chin, forcing him to look up and meet Castiel's gaze.

"You should have told Uncle Gabriel as soon as you started feeling bad," Castiel told him. "I understand that you have a hard time figuring out when something is really wrong because you're used to handling everything by yourself. But you can't sit here and expect me to believe that you never once thought there was a point when Gabriel should contact me."

His face grew hot. Dean kept his mouth stubbornly shut. Because his daddy was right; he couldn't say that. Hell, he'd all but begged Gabriel _not_ to contact Castiel, and he was pretty sure Castiel knew it. He still thought he'd made the right choice, even if hearing about Castiel's disappointment made him feel guilty.

Castiel just looked at him knowingly. "I'll let it go this time because you were just trying to help. But in the future, I won't hesitate to punish you for not telling me or Uncle Gabriel when you're not feeling well. Especially in a situation like that."

"Punish me?" Dean repeated, shocked.

"Of course. I am your daddy. But it won't be anything like what you're imagining right now," Castiel said, his tone taking on a steely note that meant he was reading Dean's thoughts again. "I'm not your father, Dean. And I don't want to punish you. I would do it because it will help you learn. I know this is hard for you. It's not how you grew up." He hugged Dean again. "But it's how I want you to grow up this time. I want you to know that you're loved."

"I do," Dean whispered, deciding to put aside thoughts of punishment for now. He did believe that Castiel loved him, though he still wasn't sure why - and he still couldn't squash the niggling doubt that Castiel might decide to leave. But there was no other explanation for how much time, energy and care Castiel was putting into this. 

It was a good, though odd, feeling to know he was loved.

"Good. Because I do love you, little one. So very much." Castiel kissed the top of his head. "You don't have to take care of me, Dean. You don't have to take care of anyone right now. Not even Sam. You don't have to be the adult any longer. For the next couple of years, just focus on being a baby. Let it all go, okay?"

"Okay," Dean said, not even trying to blink back the tears this time, letting them run freely down his cheeks. It wouldn't be that easy. But it was so nice to hear Castiel saying all these things that, just for the moment, he wanted to believe that it would be. He shoved aside every last worry he felt and cuddled into his daddy's embrace, slipping his thumb into his mouth, while Castiel rocked him back and forth.


	47. Chapter 47

Dean was reluctant to go down for his nap that afternoon, protesting that he wasn’t sleepy, but Castiel insisted that he at least lie down for a little while. Sure enough, after two chapters of the third Harry Potter book, Dean was out like a light, clutching his bee against his chest. Castiel shook his head fondly, switched on the mobile, and crept out of the room to the soft tune of ‘Hey Jude’. He closed the door partially behind him, leaving it open just a crack, and moved into the living room.

Their conversation earlier had gone a lot better than Castiel had expected. Dean was so stubborn, but worse than that he was just too used to being the one who had to take care of everyone. It wouldn’t be that easy for Dean to stop that behavior, but maybe now it was something Dean would consciously think about instead of just doing automatically. Not to mention, it seemed like the idea of being a hatchling was finally starting to sink in. Dean was such a happy baby when he wasn’t over thinking the situation.

He spent several minutes gathering some more grace for Dean, refilling the empty bottles that lined the counter, then wandered into the living room. He’d cleaned the room by hand yesterday, putting away the toys that Dean and Charlie’s play date had left scattered all over the floor. The memory of Dean, playing so unselfconsciously, was enough to make him smile. He wanted to see that happen a lot more often. Dean deserved it. 

The distinct flap of wings made him turn towards the door, but Gabriel waited for no one. He opened the door and strolled inside with Balthazar in tow, grinning at Castiel. “Hey bro. Heard a rumor that a certain baby was missing his uncle.”

“It’s more than just a rumor,” Castiel said, pleased to see him. Gabriel looked a little worn, but there were no visible injuries that Castiel could see. “Although I think he misses your pie more than anything else.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get. Where is he?”

“Napping.”

“Ah, well. That gives the adults time to talk. I’m sure Balthazar updated you on the suspicious lack of demonic activity?”

“He did. I take it things haven’t changed,” Castiel said.

“Nope. And Crowley hasn’t reared his ugly head that we know of. He seems to be sticking pretty exclusively to hell. Since I have no interest in laying siege again, we were wondering if you might have better luck getting into contact with Crowley. Just to have a chat, that’s all.”

Castiel frowned. “Crowley hates me, and the feeling is mutual.”

“But you teamed up him with him during the Apocalypse,” Balthazar pointed out. “Or at least the Winchesters did.”

“I don’t want Dean anyone near him,” Castiel said instantly, wings puffing threateningly at the thought. It was true that he, Dean, Sam and Crowley had been forced to work together during the Apocalypse. But Castiel had never allowed himself to forget that Crowley was, first and foremost, a demon, and that meant everything Crowley did was for his own benefit. Crowley hadn’t helped them out of the goodness of his own heart; he’d done it because Lucifer would’ve killed him otherwise.

“I don’t either,” Gabriel said, completely serious. “Believe me. Balthazar could baby-sit Dean while you and I went to talk to him.”

“Talked to who?” a sleepy voice asked. Dean stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey kiddo!” It was amazing to see the transformation that came over Gabriel. He immediately brightened up at seeing Dean, a huge grin crossing his face. His wings lifted too, spreading out welcomingly even as Gabriel opened his arms for a hug.

“Uncle Gabe!” Dean’s eyes lit up and he sprinted across the room to throw himself into Gabriel’s arms, giggling with abandon as Gabriel scooped him up into a bear hug. Gabriel dramatically shook him from side to side a few times, then set him back down on the ground and planted a kiss on the top of Dean’s head.

“How have you been?” Gabriel asked. “I heard that someone was craving pie?”

Dean nodded. “Will you make me an apple pie?”

“Of course. You can help me make it tonight.”

“You’re staying?” Dean asked, fingers wrapped in the fabric of Gabriel’s shirt. He seemed worried that Gabriel would leave again, and Gabriel shot a look of surprise at Castiel before giving Dean another hug.

“Absolutely, honey. I had to go sort some stuff out in heaven, but I’m all done with that for now. Besides, I couldn’t stay away from my favorite nephew for long.” He tickled Dean a little. Dean squealed with laughter and wiggled away, though he didn’t let go of Gabriel’s shirt.

“How are your wings feeling?” Balthazar asked unexpectedly. 

Dean blinked at him. “Okay. Why are your wings purple today?”

Balthazar preened at the mention of his wings, flaring the feathers out so that they could better admire the color, which was as pale as lavender. “I find it boring to have the same color wings every day,” he answered. With a tilt of the head, he changed the color of his wings to a deeper purple. Dean gasped in astonishment, eyes widening. 

Castiel exchanged an amused look with Gabriel. Balthazar was the only angel they knew of that changed the color of his wings every single time he came to Earth. He didn’t stick to the traditional colors either, frequently using colors normally associated with nestlings or hatchlings. Mostly, Castiel suspected, because he found it funny when another angel mistook him for a nestling and then Balthazar got the chance to correct their perception. Usually with as much embarrassment for the other angel as possible.

“That’s so cool. How come you don’t change the color of your wings, Daddy?”

“I guess I never thought about it,” Castiel said honestly. “I like the color of my wings.” 

“I like it too,” Dean said quickly, apparently worried that he’d offended Castiel with his innocent comment. Castiel smiled at him in thanks, then looked at Balthazar.

“Why do you ask how Dean’s wings are?” he asked, knowing better than to think Balthazar was just asking out of concern.

“Because I went through the trouble of tracking down these.” Balthazar pulled a pair of green wing sleeves out of midair. There were few pairs of wing sleeves in existence, mostly because newly grown wings were so unbearably sensitive that they had to spun from the hair of a unicorn, and that was both tedious and time-consuming because unicorns were such vain creatures. Most angels opted to just keep their nestling inside the nest until their feathers had grown in. Castiel had never even seen a pair before.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, frowning.

“They’re to cover your wings until your feathers grow,” Gabriel said, putting a gentle hand on Dean’s head. “That way you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing them. Like gloves for your hands, except these can be coated with some of your Daddy’s oil and will help with the pain. Plus, it will keep you warmer.”

“Oh.” Dean looked over his shoulder at his wings and grimaced. “Can I put them on now?”

“Of course. Uncle Gabriel will help you too lie down on your bed. I’ll be right in,” Castiel said, watching his hatchling and his brother disappear down the hall hand-in-hand. Then he turned to Balthazar.

“Thank you for finding those for Dean,” he said quietly, meaning it. “That must have been a lot of work.”

“It was,” Balthazar said, passing over the sleeves. “I had to call in some favors, and I owe a lot more. But the little rugrat means a lot to you, so it was worth it.”

Castiel had a suspicion that Balthazar liked Dean a lot more than he was willing to admit, but he said nothing. He took the sleeves down the hall and found that Dean was lying face down on his bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and Gabriel stood behind him, stimulating his wing glands to collect the oil. Gabriel liberally smeared the oil across the sleeves until the delicate fabric was glistening. Because it was made from unicorn hair, the oil didn’t soak through to the other side, but nor did it slide off when Castiel and Gabriel each took a sleeve and slipped it over one of Dean’s naked wings.

Dean tensed up, whimpering around his thumb, as his wings were touched. Castiel removed his hands as soon as he could, watching as the fabric tightened and settled into place on its own – the wonders of supernatural creatures; unicorn hair fabric was about as heavy as a snowflake, and the oil would help to make it stay. Once the oil was fully absorbed, the sleeves would slide off painlessly for reapplication. It was truly a stunning gift. 

As Gabriel slipped out, Castiel perched again on the bed and pulled Dean up into his lap, cuddling the baby and rubbing his lower back until the flow of tears had slowed. Dean sniffed a few times, sucking wetly at his thumb, and winced when one of his wings gave a spasmodic jerk. Castiel set a hand on his shoulder, urging him to relax, because Dean didn’t understand how to control the muscles in his upper back yet. It would take practice once his feathers had grown, as it was the equivalent of teaching a human baby to walk.

Gabriel came back into the room with a bottle of water mixed with grace. He handed it to Castiel and sat down beside his brother, putting a reassuring hand on the back of Dean’s neck. Castiel urged Dean to sit up a little, offering him the nipple of the bottle with some trepidation. He’d never attempted to give Dean a bottle like this; up till now, the few bottles that Dean had consumed had been under his own control. He always took the bottle from Castiel.

Dean eyed the nipple for a long moment, eyes still watery, before he slipped his thumb out of his mouth. Much to Castiel’s surprise, Dean kept his mouth open and allowed Castiel to slide the nipple in. He sucked once and then a second time, swallowing the cool water, and then shut his eyes as a light blush spread across his face. Even though he was clearly a little embarrassed, he kept drinking from the bottle. Castiel wouldn’t have said as much, but he looked adorable the whole time. 

“There you go, little one,” he said softly as Dean finished the water. He handed the bottle to Gabriel and lifted Dean up to his shoulder, very carefully patting at Dean’s back. After about thirty seconds, Dean belched and sighed, nuzzling onto Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Hey Dean-o,” Gabriel said. “Now that your wings are covered, would you feel up to going out?”

“Out?” Dean repeated, sounding more like he was ready for another nap than going out. “Out where?”

“Not to the mall or anything. I just thought you might like to go for a walk. Get out of the nest for a bit.”

“Will you come too?” Dean asked, turning a pleading look into Gabriel, who visibly melted.

“Of course I will. Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen this time. No demons are gonna be dumb enough to challenge two angels and an archangel.” Gabriel winked at him. “You and your daddy get ready to go, okay? I’ll get your stroller.”

“Don’t need it. I can walk.”

“You sure?” Gabriel said, glancing at Castiel. Castiel shrugged with his free shoulder. When Dean inevitably grew tired, because that would be a long walk for a baby, one of them could carry him or fly back to the nest to get the stroller. 

Dean nodded, rubbing his cheek against Castiel’s feathers, like a contented kitten. He mumbled a little in protest when Castiel stood up and set him down on the changing table, but allowed his diaper to be changed. Castiel got him dressed in a pair of jeans with an elastic waist and a cute purple t-shirt, then carried him out to where Balthazar and Gabriel were waiting.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission (chapter one of two) for anon.
> 
> I understand it's been a while because I've been focusing on commissions, but a select few people have gotten very annoying about asking for updates. I'm kindly asking you to please stop, as the more people that harass me about this fic the less I want to update - and there have been a couple times I was tempted to delete the fic entirely rather than deal with it.

The next week was calm in a way that Dean was unfamiliar with. Every morning when he woke up, both Castiel and Gabriel were there waiting for him. He and Gabriel baked a pie together twice. All three of them went for walks right before lunch. One afternoon, Balthazar showed up with flavored popcorn and they introduced Castiel to Star Wars. Gabriel cooked something for supper each night; one evening, they went to the little lake and Dean had the chance to build another sandcastle, since he couldn't go swimming with the wing sleeves on. 

It was... weird. Peaceful. Dean couldn't get over the feeling that something was going to happen, especially when he started feeling a little better. His fever was finally gone, but he still got tired ridiculously easy. It was embarrassing. Especially when Castiel was taking full advantage of it, picking Dean up and carrying him to bed for two naps a day no matter how much Dean protested. The fact that he actually fell asleep every damn time was worse.

He woke from one of said naps slowly, rubbing at his eyes and realizing that he was in his bed with the comforter pulled up to his waist. The mobile was still revolving above his head, though it wasn't playing any music now. The room was silent aside from the sound of rain against his window. He figured that meant their morning walk was going to be cancelled, which sucked. Nature was kind of cool when you actually had the time to stop and look at it.

Since the mobile was still moving, that meant he hadn't been asleep for long. Castiel usually let him sleep for at least an hour during the first nap of the day. Dean wondered what had woken him up. He sat up carefully and looked down at his pillow. There was a pacifier laying beside the imprint of his head; his bee and his fox were tucked up close to his tummy where they belonged.

Then he felt it again and realized what it was. An itchy feeling was coming from his wings. He'd been feeling it over the past day or so, but the wing oil helped to soothe the itch just as much as it did the pain, so he hadn't bothered to say anything. He didn't like to think too closely about the fact that he had such ugly things attached to him. Never mind that it meant he was really an angel's baby now, he'd always imagined his wings to be more like his daddy's. What he had was just... gross.

"Sam would never let me hear the end of it if he saw what they looked like," Dean muttered, picking up his fox for comfort. He nuzzled his cheek against her fur and winced when the itching only grew worse. He really wanted to reach back and scratch it, but his wings were unbearably sensitive even now. Castiel had promised that it would get better when his feathers came in, but Dean wasn't sure he believed it.

So far, this whole hatchling thing sucked.

He wiggled his shoulders, half-tempted to lay down on his back so that the pressure would help. He had a vague memory of having had chicken pox when he was a child. To this day, Dean still wasn't sure what his father had been hunting, and the journal had never mentioned this particular case, but it had taken up so much of John's time and attention that Sam and Dean had ended up with a local baby-sitter. It just so happened that chicken pox was spreading like wildfire through the town at the time.

If Dean was remembering correctly, Sam had only been about a year old at the time and he'd come down with it first. He definitely remembered how hard it had been trying to keep Sam from scratching. John had still been busy, so it was up to Dean to try and distract him. The only fortunate thing about the whole miserable experience was that by the time that Dean got sick, Sam was mostly healed.

But that didn't mean the experience had been any less miserable for five-year-old Dean. He could remember wanting to scratch desperately and being told he wasn't allowed to, and knowing that he had to listen to what John said or suffer the unpleasant consequences. One of the few things that had brought him any relief was putting pressure on the itchiest spots. Which sometimes had meant sprawling out on the floor with Sammy on his chest and the floor against his back, when both sides of his body were equally itchy.

The problem was that laying down on his wings would be ridiculously painful. Dean scowled and rubbed his eyes again. Much as he hated to admit it, he was sleepy and his pillow looked awfully comfortable. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew that there was no way he'd be able to. Even though Gabriel had rubbed on fresh oil just three or four hours ago, the feeling was getting worse instead of better. It felt like someone was tickling his wings. He squirmed around and finally gave in, putting his hand back and carefully scratching at the worst spot.

Surprisingly it didn't hurt. It just felt really good. Dean whimpered with relief, scratching a little harder. It was difficult to get his arm back far enough to scratch the way he really wanted to, but even just this little bit was bliss. He closed his eyes and was so focused on scratching that he didn't even notice the door was opening.

"Dean? What are you doing awake?"

Dean froze and dropped his hand quickly. "Nothing. I'm not tired," he lied.

Castiel frowned, clearly not buying the story. "What were you doing to your wings? Are you in pain?" He crossed the room. The movement caused his feathers to rustle; his wings flexed unconsciously in response, something that Dean had noticed happened every time Castiel or Gabriel entered a new room. He tried not to frown jealously.

He jumped at the touch to his wings - that would never stop being weird - but Castiel's hands were as gentle as always, sliding the wing sleeve off. At first it was a relief, but then the itching came back even worse. Dean couldn't help himself. He didn't know when his will power had dissolved to nothing, but apparently it had yet to make a return. He started to reach around his ribs, aiming for a spot near the base of his wings, but Castiel caught his hand. When Dean glanced back at him, scowling, he saw that his daddy was smiling.

"Oh, little one, you're getting your pin feathers," he said, sounding absurdly happy for something that was driving Dean crazy. Then the words sank in, and Dean straightened up.

"Feathers? Really?" he asked.

"Yes. Why didn't you tell me you were so uncomfortable?" But Castiel already knew why, of course, and anyway it didn't sound like he was really expecting Dean to answer the question. He was already sliding his hands under Dean's armpits and hefting Dean up onto his hip, then turned away from the bed and carried him over to the mirror. Dean hid his face in Castiel's shoulder rather than look. The wing sleeves weren't too bad to look at it, but he loathed the sight of his fleshy,, icky wings. It was always enough to make him cry and he hated that, too.

"Dean, come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that. It's okay."

"No," Dean said stubbornly. He didn't want to look and Castiel couldn't make him.

"But baby boy, don't you want to see what color your feathers will be?"

That was enough to catch Dean's attention. Slowly, he lifted his head and gave his daddy a suspicious look. Castiel was a notoriously bad liar - he always got this little dent between his eyebrows, and he could never look Dean in the eye - and right now he was staring straight at Dean with nothing but excitement in his blue eyes. 

In all honesty, Dean had kind of wondered about the color of his wings. Castiel's wings were a beautiful, glossy shade of black. The coloring suited Jimmy's vessel very well, though Dean didn't think that actually had anything to do with it. Balthazar's wings had been a different color every time Dean saw him, and Balthazar refused to say what color his wings actually were. By contrast, Gabriel's wings were silver shot through with the occasional gold feather. Castiel had told him once that archangels had six wings, but didn't usually manifest four of those wings; Dean had often wondered if Gabriel's other four wings were pure gold.

All of the hatchlings and nestlings that Dean had seen up till now usually had more colorful wings. Charlie, for example, had bright purple wings. Dean figured his coloring would be along the same lines, and he was hoping for something more like a neutral brown. It would be better for hunting if he had something that didn't stand out too much. Even green or blue would have been okay. He was just concerned he'd end up with pink or purple wings, a color that would probably have John rising from beyond the grave just to have a heart attack.

"Go ahead, Dean," Castiel said, angling their bodies so that Dean had no choice but to look. Or at least, that's what he told himself as he peeked very cautiously into the mirror. He hadn't figured out how to make his wings move yet, so that was the only way he could see.

He squinted in the dim light, and Castiel's finger shifted. The overhead light came on. It was too bright on Dean's eyes, but it did make it much easier to see the - what had Castiel called them? Pin feathers? That's not what Dean would have called them. There were dozens of them sticking up all over his wing, and he could tell from the bumpiness of the wing sleeve he was still wearing that his other wing had suffered the same fate. They looked like the tips of white straws, or maybe that weird plastic thing at the end of shoelaces. They certainly did not approve the look of Dean's wings, and he felt his eyes welling up with tears.

"It's okay, baby. Look. See, right there?" Castiel pointed to a couple of feathers near the tip of the wing. The pin feathers did look a little different because an actual feather was starting to poke through the tip. Dean just couldn't tell what color it was yet. It looked like brown, maybe, or a brownish red. He reached for the pin feather, planning to pull the straw-thing off so that he could get a better look, but Castiel grabbed his hand again.

"I know it's uncomfortable, and you don't like the way they look. But you can't remove the sheath just yet. That's to protect your feathers while they're still growing. If you pull them off too soon, it will be very painful. You have to wait until your feathers are ready. It will take another three or four days."

"But it's itchy," Dean said. His voice quivered. Castiel sighed.

"I know it is. I'm sorry. We'll rub some more oil onto your wings, and then we can put some ice on them. That will help. You can't scratch, though. Your wings are very delicate right now."

"I don't like it," Dean mumbled. The room blurred as the tears finally spilled over, sliding hotly down his face.

Castiel hugged him. "I know you don't. I promise that it will be over soon, little one."

Not fast enough.


	49. Chapter 49

To say that Dean was not a happy baby over the next three days was an understatement. He was visibly uncomfortable from the itching; he could barely stay still, squirming constantly, and more than once he'd start scratching his wings if he thought no one was paying attention. The itching was preventing him from sleeping, which meant that Dean was getting extremely cranky, and the only thing that really helped was a combination of ice, wing oil and warm baths. Unfortunately, they quickly reached the point where not even that was enough.

Castiel felt terrible as he paced back and forth outside of the cabin, Dean sobbing into his shoulder. He had one arm braced under Dean's bottom and the other across Dean's lower back, mindful of Dean's wings. Dean had slid straight past the point of being able to communicate with words about two hours ago. He was so frustrated and wound up and just plain _exhausted_ from the past two weeks that he was reduced to laying weakly in Castiel's arms and wailing his displeasure out for the world to understand. 

On the one hand, it was kind of a good thing. There was no way Dean would've let himself act this way when Castiel first brought him to the cabin. But on the other hand, it was extremely upsetting to have his hatchling be in this much discomfort and not be able to help. At least when Dean's wings were coming out, the wing oil had gone a long way towards helping. Castiel was familiar with just how irritating the growth of new feathers could be, as it happened to all angels every year when their feathers molted. But he was used to it, annoying though it was, and Dean - who was already at the end of his rope - wasn't. 

"I know," Castiel said for what had to have been the thousandth time, pressing his lips to Dean's temple. Dean was a little too warm for his liking, but he wasn't sure he wanted to try a cool bath just yet. He didn't think it would really help, and it would only upset Dean further. It was too bad that human medication wouldn't have much of an effect on the baby now, or he would've sent Gabriel to the drugstore for something to lower Dean's temperature.

"Still not a happy baby, huh?"

Castiel turned to walk back, glancing over at the door and his brother. "No, not in the slightest," he said with a sigh. "If anything, I think he's getting more upset. I was hoping he'd cry himself to sleep, but he's just as stubborn as always."

"He's a Winchester. That's never going to change," Gabriel said wryly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "If it helps, I think we'll be able to take most of the sheathes off tomorrow morning. Those feathers are looking just about ready to me."

"I hope so. He's not going to like that."

"He likes this far less," Gabriel pointed out. He snapped up a pacifier and came down the steps, walking over to them. But when he offered it to Dean, Dean twisted his head away and just cried. Gabriel sighed and gave up, tossing the pacifier over his shoulder. It vanished before it hit the ground, and the two brothers looked at each other miserably.

"Maybe he'll take a bottle," Castiel said, though he wasn't holding out any real hope. He'd coaxed Dean into drinking a bottle filled with water and grace earlier that morning, but Dean had staunchly refused to drink or eat anything since then. Castiel didn't like it. Dean was starting to lose weight, and this process was hard on his body as it was without Dean getting weaker from lack of food. He needed to start eating again. But at the same time, there was no point in forcing Dean to eat or drink: the stress on his body meant that he'd only throw it right back up. Hopefully, once his feathers were out, he would feel better.

Morning was a long way off, though. He watched as Gabriel went back into the cabin, presumably to fetch a bottle on the off chance that Dean might accept it, and climbed the steps himself. He sank down into one of the porch chairs, remembering the first time he'd sat here with Dean at night. That was after Dean had woken up from that terrible nightmare. He'd been embarrassed at finding himself in Castiel's arms, but at the same time the comfort had soothed him. Castiel wished that he could soothe Dean the same way now.

"My poor baby," he murmured, smoothing his hand over Dean's head. Dean was curled into his shoulder, arms wrapped around Castiel's neck. Castiel tucked his wings around his hatchling, making sure that Dean was fully covered. He didn't want Dean to get chilled. 

This was a frustrating situation for all of them. Even though Dean understood on a logical, adult level that this was necessary, there was still the babyish part of him that was growing every day and that didn't understand why his daddy wasn't fixing his problems. So Dean had spent the day alternating between pushing Castiel away because Castiel couldn't help him, and crying and clinging to him because he wanted to be comforted. It was almost more frustrating than when Dean had been in pain, because at least then Dean had been too sickly and feverish to really respond. This endless crying was beginning to try even Castiel's patience, though he was doing his best to keep that from Dean.

Gabriel returned to the porch with a bottle of apple juice and grace in hand. He took the seat beside Castiel and offered it to Dean. Dean actually turned his head for the first time, revealing puffy green eyes and flushed cheeks, though the rest of his face was pale. He actually accepted the nipple of the bottle and sucked a couple of times, but just as quickly he turned his head away and whined. It was a thin, high sound that made Castiel's feathers shiver in distress. He patted Dean's back and exchanged a worried look with his brother.

"Dean, come on, kiddo. Just try a little more," Gabriel coaxed, trying again. Dean whimpered, biting his lip and shaking his head. More tears welled up in his eyes. When Gabriel went so far as to press the nipple against Dean's bottom lip, Dean opened his mouth and let loose with an ear-splitting wail. Both angels winced at the volume of the sound, and Castiel was pretty sure that every animal in a fifty foot radius took off running.

"Well, you wanted him to act more like a baby. You're getting your wish," Gabriel said, covering his ears.

Castiel glared at him and bounced Dean gently, hoping to settle him a little more. "I just wish that there was something I could do," he said, long past the point of frustration. He wasn't sure how the parents of newborns did it. At least with Dean, he knew there was an end in sight. Dean would be much better tempered when his feathers were out. Or he was hoping that would be the case.

"I am so, so glad that Sam is not going to be this young," Gabriel said.

"Sam is still going to react exactly the same way," Castiel told him, pausing to wipe some drool off of Dean's chin. "At least Dean's only crying. He could be trying to drink, or lashing out, or trying to distract himself with sex..." He trailed off, remembering all of the coping mechanisms that Dean used to use on a regular basis. It was amazing how much progress they'd made. Dean hadn't had a drop of alcohol in months. Castiel was certain that he touched himself at night sometimes, but Dean had never even mentioned finding a human woman to satisfy himself with. And his temper had cooled significantly as the stressful life of a hunter was left behind.

Gabriel made a face. "Don't remind me. Dean's exhausting me enough as it is. It's going to be a long time before I'm ready for Sam." He leaned back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. 

"Sammy?" Dean said, the first word he'd spoken in hours. He looked around with glassy eyes, as though expecting his brother to appear.

"Sam's not here, sweetheart," Castiel said, brushing at the tears on Dean's face. "Maybe we can go visit him soon. Would you like that?"

Dean mumbled something and curled back into Castiel's shoulder. His wings fluttered and twitched and Dean winced, tensing. Castiel gripped the base of his wings in one hand, urging him to relax. Slowly, Dean did. The pin feathers were surprisingly soft against Castiel's fingers, and Dean seemed to like the feeling of his hand there, so he left it.

"Do you want to try some ice again?" Gabriel asked.

"Might as well. Can't hurt, at this point," Castiel said, grateful for Gabriel's presence. 

The ice didn't help. Sometime towards 3am, Dean finally fell into an exhausted sleep, but it didn't last long. He woke as the sun crested the hills, sneakily reaching for his wings to try and scratch. Castiel caught his hands, trying to steel himself against the adorable look of outrage that earned him. Dean didn't understand what scratching would do; if he was too rough, and Castiel knew that he would be, he would damage the pin feathers and either they would fall out or - much worse - they would need to be pulled out. Then the whole process would start all over again.

That was the last thing any of them wanted. Castiel didn't think he could take another week of this. He didn't even want to think about the fact that Dean would be molting every year from here on out. He just wanted to get through the next couple of hours as best they could, and then go curl up in bed with his baby and let Dean sleep.

"Dean," he said, sitting down on the couch with the baby on his lap. Dean looked up at him. He wasn't crying right now, but he looked utterly miserable. It was breaking Castiel's heart. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering whether this had truly been the right decision. Maybe he'd led Dean down a path that they never should've gone down. But it was too late to turn back. They couldn't reverse the process now even if Castiel wanted to. All he could do was keep moving forward as best he could.

He put a hand to Dean's cheek. "Your feathers are ready. This might be a little uncomfortable for you, but Uncle Gabe and I are going to work as fast as we can to remove the sheathes. You should feel better once they're gone. Then you can sleep, okay? When you wake up, I'll bathe your feathers and apply some wing oil and you can see how beautiful they are." He tried to smile, wanting to reassure Dean, but unsurprisingly it didn't seem to help.

He gently helped Dean to lay down on the couch on his belly. Then Castiel and Gabriel each took a side. Removing the sheathes wasn't too hard. Both of them were used to it; it was a simple matter of rolling the sheath between the thumb and index finger until it grew brittle and flaked away. But each of Dean's wings had hundreds of feathers, so it was a time-consuming process. Dean was worryingly quiet, squirming at times and whimpering a little when one of them touched an area that was especially sensitive, but otherwise not moving or even crying.

"You're being so good, little one," Castiel whispered at one point, blinking hard. His vessel's eyes were hot, and the sight of Dean's half-feathered wings was a little blurry. He carefully combed his fingers through the soft feathers that had been unfurled, admiring them because now he could see their color for the first time and it was lovely: Dean's wings were the beautiful color of copper.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was commissioned for the next several chapters of this fic. Thank you, anons.

Dean fell asleep towards the end of the removal process. Castiel was probably more relieved than he should have been, but it was easier to work without Dean twitching or squirming whenever he or Gabriel grazed a particularly sensitive spot. He wished he could have just used his grace, but this was such a delicate process that it was best done by the hands of their vessels. 

It probably took another hour to remove the last of the sheathes, and then Castiel had the chance to fully appreciate Dean’s new wings for the first time. They were still tiny, of course, spanning about two and a half feet, which meant that about half a foot would be visible on either side if Dean were standing. It would take time for them to grow to their full reach, and they wouldn’t be fully grown until Dean’s grace was. He suspected that fact would irk his little hunter, but it couldn’t be changed.

He wondered how Dean would handle learning to fly.

“Thank Father that’s over,” Gabriel said, leaning backwards and stretching his hands over his eyes. He cocked his head, studying Dean. “Interesting.”

“What is?” Castiel asked, combing his fingers through both wings. The feathers felt a little gritty to the touch and they were dull. Normally dull feathers meant that an application of wing oil was necessary, but when his fingertips found the nubs hidden along the joints, nothing happened. Which made sense, because Dean was still way too young to produce his own oil. Castiel’s would be used until Dean was old enough. They’d have to give Dean a bath first, though.

“I didn’t think hatchlings or nestlings could have this color. They almost look a little gold if you tilt your head just right.”

Castiel tried, but he couldn’t see what Gabriel was talking about. No matter how he tipped his head, Dean’s wings remained that same beautiful, coppery color. Then he realized that Gabriel was laughing at him, and he rolled his eyes and reached out to shove his brother off the couch. Gabriel never hit the ground, of course; he spread his wings to slow his descent and then just stood up.

“Take the kiddo to bed, Cassie,” he said, still grinning. “I’d say we’ve all earned a good rest, don’t you?”

“And then some,” Castiel said, rising. He very carefully lifted Dean into his arms, pleased when the baby didn’t stir in the slightest. His forehead was still warm to the touch, but with sleep, rest and food, that would go away over the next couple of days. Then Dean would be back to being the (mostly) happy baby that Castiel loved so much.

He carried Dean into his bedroom and set the baby down on the bed. His new wings wouldn’t be nearly so sensitive now that he had feathers to cushion the sensory feedback, but Castiel still laid him on his belly. Dean mumbled, eyelashes fluttering, and went to slip his thumb into his mouth. Castiel caught his hand and pushed a pacifier into his mouth instead, which was apparently good enough because Dean settled down again.

“There you go, little one,” he said softly, feeling a burst of pride. This had been so hard on Dean, and he’d weathered the storm about as well as Castiel could have hoped. The best part was that, although Dean had pushed Castiel away a few times, it had never lasted. Whereas before Dean would’ve hidden himself away no matter how terribly he was feeling and forced himself to deal with it alone, this time Dean had reached a point (quite quickly, knowing Dean’s stubbornness) where he actively sought comfort.

The days where the headstrong hunter suffered in silent pain finally seemed to be behind them, thank god. Although now that he thought about it, Dean had tried to keep the initial discomfort and itchiness from his feathers coming in to himself. Well, Castiel would take what he could get when it came to a Winchester. He smiled to himself and pulled the blanket up around Dean’s waist. Then he made sure that Dean’s fox and bee were in easy reach, switched on the mobile, and tiptoed out of the room.

Gabriel was on the couch watching television when Castiel peeked into the living room. He opted to leave his brother to it, retreating into his own bedroom. He laid down on the bed and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, their nest was quiet. It almost made him feel restless in a way, but he pushed that aside and let himself relax.

Come morning, Dean was still snoozing. His diaper was still dry – probably because of how little liquid they’d been able to coax into him over the past couple of weeks – so Castiel allowed him to sleep and went into the kitchen to harvest more grace, as he was certain that Dean would be hungry when he woke up. Gabriel also groomed him, collecting some oil to be used on Dean’s wings. Just as they were finishing, Castiel felt a faint flutter against his senses that meant Dean was awake. He exchanged a smile with Gabriel and went to see to his hatchling.

Dean was buried under the covers. When Castiel walked in, a little, very red face appeared and Dean whispered, “Daddy?” in a quivery voice.

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Yucky,” Dean mumbled. “Go away.”

That was unusual. Castiel frowned. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Go ‘way,” the baby whined.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, then suddenly threw the covers back and sat up, lifting his arms in a silent request to be picked up. It was still such a new sight, Dean actually asking to be cuddled and carried instead of squirming and whining that he could walk, that Castiel loved it. It was even better now that Dean was unconsciously lifting and widening his wings, the tips straining towards Castiel in a way that was very clear to him how desperately Dean wanted comfort.

“What’s the matter, little one?” he asked, immediately approaching the bed to grant the unspoken request. He lifted Dean onto his hip, supporting the baby’s bottom with his right arm. Dean’s legs wound around his waist as he buried his blushing face in Castiel’s shoulders, hands fisting in Castiel’s shirt. His diaper was wet, but that wasn’t the only thing – oh.

Suddenly, Castiel understood. Up until now, Dean seemed to have come to terms with peeing in his diaper. He still didn’t like it, but since they hadn’t been out in public it wasn’t that big of a deal. However, he was adamant about going to the potty for his other bathroom functions. Gabriel had mentioned that Dean had pooped in his diaper just once, right before his wings came out, but Castiel doubted Dean remembered that considering how feverish he’d been at the time.

This was the first time Dean had ever done that and been aware enough to know it had happened, even though Castiel suspected that his body had just done what was natural while Dean was asleep. He’d probably been sleeping so soundly and so deeply that he wasn’t even aware of it until he woke up. And that also explained Dean’s reaction; no doubt he’d been trying to figure out how to get to the bathroom to deal with it himself before Castiel found out.

Well, that wouldn’t do. There was no part of this that Castiel wanted Dean to be embarrassed or ashamed of. He carried Dean over to the changing table and set him down, but Dean refused to let go. He whimpered when Castiel tried to unclasp his hands, determinedly burrowing deeper into Castiel, as though he could ignore the inevitable. Because although Gabriel had used grace to clean up that time, Castiel had no such intentions and Dean probably knew it.

“Dean,” he said, very gently. “Sweetheart, please look at me.”

Dean shook his head.

So stubborn. A wave of fondness swept over him. Castiel hugged the baby tighter. “Dean, do you remember that talk we had in the bathroom about how I would never angry at you for using your diaper?”

That didn’t garner him an answer. If anything, Dean’s grip only tightened.

“I think you do. And I also told you that it was normal. Your body is going through so many changes right now that it’s very difficult for your mind to keep up with them all. Unimportant things will fall to the wayside. That’s why I put you in diapers in the first place, so that you wouldn’t have to worry when you had an accident.”

“S’not unimportant,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s chest. 

Castiel smiled, but only because Dean wasn’t looking at him. “In the grand scheme of things, yes it is,” he said patiently. “I’m not bothered by changing your diapers, Dean. To me, it’s no different than giving you a bottle. It’s all a part of caring for you, which is something that makes me very happy.” He ran a hand through Dean’s hair, and then down across his wings. Dean shivered at the sensation and finally lifted his head. He looked _miserable_ , face pink from shame and embarrassment and eyes filled with tears.

“Will it keep happening?” he asked, voice barely audible.

“I think that depends on you,” Castiel admitted, suspecting he was treading on thin line. The wrong answer would upset Dean immensely. “Every hatchling is different. You might have some difficulty controlling your bowel movements now that your wings have emerged, you may not. The important thing, as far as I’m concerned, is that you know that using your diaper is a good thing. I’m very proud of you.”

“For shitting myself,” Dean said, disgusted, rubbing at his eyes.

“For dealing with a very painful process as well as you have,” Castiel corrected. And for letting Castiel hug him, instead of doing what he would have at the beginning of this and taking off into the bathroom. Castiel’s timing had probably helped there as well, but he opted to give some credit to Dean as well. Coaxing an extremely distraught and embarrassed Dean out of the bathroom was not Castiel’s idea of a fun time.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know. But you have to remember that you’re not an adult human anymore. You’re a baby angel and I’m your daddy. This is okay.” Castiel gently pushed at Dean’s shoulders, encouraging him to lay back. Swallowing hard, Dean obeyed. His face turned an even brighter shade of red when Castiel pulled apart his diaper and he whimpered.

Sensing an incoming meltdown, Castiel used his grace to fetch Dean’s bee. The toy appeared right on Dean’s chest. He grabbed it and buried his face in it, so upset that he was shaking a little bit. Castiel shushed him, patting Dean’s knee before he grabbed a couple of wipes. He cleaned Dean up as quickly as he could, making sure that he removed the mess from every inch of Dean’s genitals. Just because he could heal a rash didn’t mean he wanted Dean to go through the discomfort of developing one because Castiel hadn’t been thorough.

“There,” he said, not even two minutes later. “You’re all done, baby boy. You were so good for me.” He didn’t put another diaper back on Dean, though. Humans had an odd compulsion when it came to cleanliness, and he had observed that Dean in particular could be fastidious about his body when it came to something he thought was gross. Sitting in his own waste, even if it was only for a few minutes, certainly qualified. Now was the perfect time for a bath.

“How about a bath?”

That caught Dean’s attention. He shifted the bee a little, peeking at Castiel. “Bath?”

“That’s right. Your wings need to be washed and I imagine the rest of you does too,” Castiel said, helping him to sit up. He scooped Dean up off the changing table, kissing his sweaty forehead. “I know that was embarrassing for you, Dean. But it shouldn’t be. I enjoy taking care of you in _every_ capacity. You can continue trying to control it if you want to, but if you decide to just use your diapers all the time I’m okay with that.”

Dean snorted at that and quickly cuddled into him, hiding his face again. Castiel let him hide and just rubbed his back as he carried Dean towards the bathroom. At first he’d thought Dean might maintain control of his bodily functions, but now he wasn’t so sure. In time, he thought Dean might become more comfortable with the diapers in all functions. Or at least, he hoped so. Otherwise, if it was proven that Dean really couldn’t control it as his fledgling grace started to grow, it was going to be a very long couple of years.


	51. Chapter 51

Dean sat on the floor while his daddy started up the bath. He was still clutching his bee, and it felt good to bury his hot face in his bee’s soft fur and not have to look at anyone. That had easily been one of the most mortifying experiences of his life so far. Waking up to find out that he’d shit himself was not how he’d wanted to start the day. Worse, he’d only had approximately thirty seconds to think about how he was going to handle the situation before Castiel had arrived, leaving him with only one acceptable alternative.

Which hadn’t worked, of course, since hiding under the covers had never helped anyone, and Castiel had coaxed him out from underneath them more quickly than Dean wanted to admit to. The only saving grace about the whole situation was that, even though Dean was mortified, Castiel hadn’t acted any differently. To go by the angel’s actions, this was something normal that happened every day. It would never happen again if Dean had any say in it, but knowing that Castiel had reacted so calmly was reassuring in a way.

Because the thought was lurking in the back of Dean’s head that it would’ve been much so much worse if Castiel had made a big deal about it, or worse scolded him for having lost control like that – or reacted like John had the last time Dean had ever wet the bed. He’d been ten years old and it was after his first hunt, but that hadn’t stopped John from laying into him about how adults didn’t do that.

He startled at the feel of hands on his shoulders, but it was just Castiel. When he looked up, Castiel was smiling down at him in that way that never failed to make Dean’s tummy feel warm. Castiel squatted down in front of him, one hand sliding down Dean’s arm to end up on his bee. Dean tightened his grip instinctively, not wanting to let go, but Castiel didn’t try to jerk the bee out of his hands.

“Dean,” he said gently. “I don’t think your bee would enjoy the bath very much. If you give it to me, I can put it right here on the counter so that you can see it during your bath.”

Dean hesitated, but he didn’t really see a way around it, so he finally nodded. It still took him another couple of seconds to let go. Castiel took the bee and stood, setting it on the very edge of the counter. Close enough that, if Dean stood up in the tub and stretched, he would be able to reach it. That wasn’t as good as holding his bee, but it wasn’t too bad.

“There we go. Now your bee can watch you and it won’t get wet,” Castiel said. He reached down, scooping Dean up and over the side of the tub, setting him down in the warm water. Then he rolled up his sleeves and knelt down beside the tub.

The water felt nice. Dean hadn’t realized he was feeling a little chilly until now. He shivered. Castiel frowned and set the back of his hand against Dean’s cheek, then across his forehead. His frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything. He just picked up the washcloth and squirted some soap on it, then started cleaning Dean’s body. The light pressure was nice; he wasn’t really dirty, but it was still good to get clean. Dean relaxed into it.

“Good boy,” Castiel said softly, voice warm with approval. “Just relax, little one.” He cleaned Dean from head to toe, taking his time and rubbing Dean’s arms and legs. Then he told Dean to lean forward a little, and Dean realized it was time for his wings to be washed.

“Hurts,” he whispered around his thumb, and just when had his thumb made its way into his mouth?

“I’ll be gentle, sweetheart, I promise. Your wings are going to be much less sensitive now that you have feathers.” Castiel’s fingers, when they touched him, were very careful. He’d acquired a spray bottle from somewhere – probably angel mojo – and he sprayed Dean’s wings with a mixture of soap and water. It was a weird feeling to have water touching limbs that Dean’s mind hadn’t quite adjusted to, and he shivered again.

But at least – as promised – it didn’t hurt, exactly. He remained very still as Castiel’s fingers combed through the feathers and occasionally sprayed more of the mixture on. It kinda felt like having his hair washed, but more pleasurable. What he didn’t like was when Castiel had to rinse his feathers. It left him feeling waterlogged and _heavy_ , and he whined in distress.

Gabriel appeared in the bathroom at the sound. “What’s wrong?” he asked, before he realized what Castiel was doing. “Aw, kiddo. It’s okay. I don’t like having my wings get wet either. Call it a necessary evil.”

“We’re almost done,” Castiel added.

Dean sniffed, blinking back tears. The weight of his wings tugged at the muscles in his back and made them ache. He rolled his shoulders and whimpered again, lifting his arms towards Gabriel in a silent plea. 

The two angels exchanged a look, and then Castiel sighed. “Go ahead. He’s as clean as he’s going to get. The wing oil will help more than anything.”

“C’mere, baby boy.” Gabriel grabbed a huge towel and wrapped it around Dean’s shoulders, picking him up at the same time. Dean wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders and huddled into him, hiding his face again as Castiel came up behind him. He whimpered again when Castiel started patting his wings with another towel to help soak up the excess water.

“Wow, he’s grumpy today,” Gabriel said, drying off the rest of him.

“He still has a fever, and he’s overtired. He’s had a difficult morning,” Castiel said. There was a pause, and Dean flushed because he knew it meant that they were speaking through their grace. He really didn’t want anyone else to know what had happened.

“Aww,” Gabriel cooed again after a moment, tightening his hug. “Poor baby. That must’ve been upsetting.”

Dean sniffed again. Tears started to well up in his eyes.

“Shh, Dean. You’re fine,” Castiel murmured. “We’re going to get you dressed and then you can have something to eat and a bottle. Then we can watch some television together.”

Castiel kept patting at his wings for another minute or so, then stepped back. Gabriel carried him out of the bathroom and into the nursery. He laid Dean down on the changing table and slid a diaper under his butt, expertly rubbed on diaper cream, added a little sprinkling of baby powder, and then pulled the diaper up between his thighs to fasten it while Dean was left blinking at him. He didn’t think that Gabriel had ever changed him like this before, so when had he gotten so fast at it?

“All clean,” Gabriel said, patting his belly. “Cas? You ready?”

“I was just getting one last thing.” Castiel came in, carrying Dean’s bee. He reached for it with greedy hands, pulling his bee securely against his chest. Gabriel smiled at him and snapped up a pacifier, which Dean took without too much fuss. He had to hold onto his bee with both hands to make sure it was safe, which meant he couldn’t put his thumb in his mouth, and he _really_ wanted something in his mouth right now.

Then something weird happened: Gabriel carried Dean over when Castiel took a seat on the rocking chair. Dean found himself sitting on Castiel’s knee, but not like how he normally sat. This time he was straddling Castiel’s lap, facing him, with Castiel’s hands on his upper arms. A pleasant chill rushed through him when Castiel’s hand brushed against the handprint. He looked at Castiel with confusion.

“You’re gonna like this,” Gabriel said, hovering behind Castiel. He was smiling.

Castiel smiled too. He bounced his legs, which meant that Dean bounced too. The thick padding of the diaper meant that it didn’t hurt at all. He was _shocked _when his wings fluttered in response; it only lasted for a few seconds, but it sent a spray of water droplets in every direction. Both Castiel and Gabriel laughed at the expression on his face.__

__“It’s good for you,” Castiel explained, doing it again. “You have to develop the muscles in your wings so that someday you can fly. Right now, they’re not strong enough or big enough to hold your weight.”_ _

__Dean pouted. All this trouble and he still couldn’t even fly? Something didn’t seem right about that. It made sense – it was kind of like how human babies had to learn to walk – but he didn’t like it. Especially how babyish it made him feel to be bounced like this! He’d seen people doing this with their babies, especially when the baby was bored or being fussy. He’d never expected it to happen to him._ _

__And he wasn’t even sure he liked how it felt when his wings fluttered like that. It was a little like the new muscles were twitching uncontrollably, but not. He couldn’t really define it with words. What he did know was that they started to ache quickly: it started in his shoulders and spread down his back. By the fifth bounce, it had solidified into a deep, sharp throb and he started to cry._ _

__“Okay, okay, you’re okay,” Castiel soothed, stopping immediately. He pulled Dean forward into a hug, pressing a kiss to his head. “That’s enough for today. You did so well, baby. I’m proud of you. Gabriel, would you grab the wing oil? Thanks.”_ _

__When more hands touched Dean’s wings, he whined and tried to pull away. Castiel shushed him, smearing something across Dean’s upper and lower back. Whatever it was helped with the pain, scaling it back to the ache of well-used muscles. He quieted then, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder, and let them do whatever they wanted. It took him a while to understand that they were oiling his wings._ _

__And whoa, that was weird. It didn’t seem so long ago that he’d been standing between Castiel’s legs, watching as Castiel groomed Gabriel’s wings. Of course, that was before he’d been able to see wings – but somehow he was able to touch them even then, and he remembered marveling at the way that the oil turned Gabriel’s feathers softer and more pliable. And glossier too, if what Gabriel had told him was correct._ _

__“This will make you feel much better, Dean,” Castiel murmured to him. “Your feathers are so dry right now. New feathers need to be cared for very carefully to make sure they grow right. It also makes molting less painful.” He ran the tip of his index finger along the joint at the top of Dean’s right wing. His wing twitched at the touch, and the sensation Dean got back was something like a ticklish feeling._ _

__“They’re looking good, though,” Gabriel commented. “I don’t see any bald spots. They’ve grown in well.” He separated a couple of feathers, smoothing them back into their proper place, a feeling that Dean didn’t even know was wrong until it was right._ _

__It took them about twenty minutes to fully oil Dean’s feathers. He was quiet during the process, sucking his pacifier and feeling increasingly tired. His bee was pinned between his belly and Castiel’s, and the warm feeling of grace that it exuded was comforting. By the time they were done, he was ready to go back to bed. He grumbled a protect when Castiel scooped him up._ _

__“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked. “Does it still hurt?”_ _

__He looked so worried that Dean felt a little guilty. He shook his head and pointed to his bed._ _

__Castiel chuckled sympathetically. “Oh, sweetheart, I know you’re sleepy. But you haven’t eaten anything for a really long time. You need some breakfast first, and then you can have a bottle and a nap.”_ _

__That sounded like a lot of effort to Dean. He whined again, kicking his legs, but Castiel ignored him and carried him out of the room. His eyes welled up with tears again as they walked into the kitchen. He didn’t want food; he just wanted to sleep. Even when Castiel sat down with Dean on his lap and Gabriel set some chocolate chip pancakes down in front of them, he still wasn’t that hungry. Castiel had to coax him into eating every bite, and by the time Dean had eaten one pancake he was done._ _

__“Come on, Dean, just one more bite,” Castiel urged._ _

__“I’d let it go, Cassie,” Gabriel said, midway through demolishing his own stack. “Or you’re going to have a tantrum on your hands in the next minute or so.”_ _

__Castiel sighed and set the fork down. “I guess one pancake will do,” he said. “Let’s get you a bottle and then you can nap.”_ _


	52. Chapter 52

Gabriel was right, though Castiel didn’t like it. Reluctantly, he set down the fork he’d been using to feed Dean and ran a hand through Dean’s hair. The baby turned his head, pulling his knees up and curling deeper into Castiel like he could hide through sheer force of will. His wings drooped and then drew in close to his body, a testament to how much Dean wanted to hide away from the world. Castiel couldn’t help a small smile at the sight, though he doubted Dean would appreciate how tell-tale his wings were.

“Come on, little one,” he said softly, rising to his feet and bringing Dean with him. “Gabriel, would you mind –”

“No problem. I’ll get a bottle ready and bring it out to you in a minute,” said Gabriel.

“Thanks,” Castiel said. He watched his brother for a moment, more amused than he wanted to admit. Gabriel had been pretty adamant in the beginning that he was only hanging around to see what happened: basically, he’d wanted to know if Castiel would be successful with his task. He hadn’t planned to become involved in the process, especially not to the degree that he currently was.

Even now, Gabriel was preparing a bottle by hand with all the ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times, which was a far cry from an archangel who previously did nearly everything by angel mojo. He’d also successfully gotten Dean into a diaper. Castiel was curious to know exactly where Gabriel had learned to do that, but he knew better than to ask. From experience, he knew that would only fluster his brother and right now things were going very well.

Because it hadn’t escaped Castiel’s notice that Gabriel had been interacting more and more with Dean, to the point where the instant Dean had had started to make his distress known in the bath, Gabriel had come to see what was wrong – even though he knew that Castiel was still with Dean. And Dean had actually reached out to him for protection that Gabriel had granted. That was huge as far as Castiel was concerned, though he could tell that neither of them had realized that. 

Like it or not, Gabriel was definitely a part of this now. Any idea that he might lose interest in what was going on and take off was pretty much gone from Castiel’s mind. If he hadn’t already before, Dean now had his uncle completely wrapped around his little finger. Not that Gabriel would ever be willing to admit that. No, if asked he’d probably insist that he was still only here for protection or some other nonsense.

He turned away from the kitchen, leaving Gabriel to finish up, and carried Dean over to the couch. “We’ll let him have his delusion, baby,” he murmured to Dean, smiling to himself as Dean grumbled while they got settled. He set Dean sideways across his lap, unsurprised when Dean drew his legs up close to his tummy and buried his nose in Castiel’s throat. He seemed to like doing that a lot, and Castiel was willing to indulge him for the moment.

He noticed that Dean was having a hard time settling down, though. The baby kept squirming like he couldn’t get comfortable. It was possible that his wings were still bothering him – though the feathers were mostly dry now, with only a slight dampness remaining – but he suspected that Dean was just overtired. A nap would probably go a long way towards improving his attitude.

“Here you go, bro,” Gabriel came into the room and tossed the bottle to him. Castiel caught it easily with the hand not supporting Dean. As Gabriel threw himself down in the armchair, Castiel started trying to coax Dean out of hiding.

“Look what I have for you, sweetheart. A yummy bottle. You like those,” he coaxed, which may or may not have been a lie. Dean hadn’t really expressed an opinion on bottles. Knowing Dean, he’d claim to hate them while secretly enjoying them. And Castiel knew that the fact that he had started giving them to Dean, instead of allowing Dean to hold the bottle, would only increase Dean’s embarrassment about the subject.

But he knew that Dean liked sucking his pacifier and a bottle was no different, except that it provided him with nutrients and grace he sorely needed. So he didn’t feel too bad about the way that Dean’s face scrunched up when Castiel finally pried him away. He slipped the nipple into Dean’s mouth before Dean could complain, tipping the bottle up so that Dean got a good mouthful of milk and grace with the first suck. Dean swallowed automatically, sucking again.

“There you go. Good boy,” Castiel said softly, pulling him a little closer. Dean seemed to decide that the taste was acceptable and began to suck with more force, eagerly drinking the liquid. His eyes were half-shut, gaze unfocused, though he was staring up at Castiel the whole time.

“I flavored it with chocolate,” Gabriel said, tossing one of Dean’s toy balls in the air. He caught it and threw it up again.

“Whatever it takes.” Chocolate wasn’t exactly healthy as far as Castiel knew, but Dean was drinking the bottle without fussing so he wasn’t going to complain. He settled back against the couch and looked on as Gabriel lost interest in the ball, grabbed the remote and turned the television on.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were that of the show Gabriel was watching and snuffly sounds Dean made as he drank. When the bottle was empty, Castiel set it aside and lifted Dean up onto his shoulder. He patted the baby’s back a dozen times until Dean burped. He melted against Castiel’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s neck, and Castiel decided to let him stay there. If Dean wanted to sleep sitting up, he didn’t mind. 

“Humans find the weirdest stuff to care about,” Gabriel said, breaking the peaceful silence. “If I were that girl, I would be playing all those guys against each other. Instead, she’s just sitting back and watching them do it for her. Where’s the fun if she doesn’t actively have a hand in it?”

“Not everyone thinks the way that you do,” Castiel said wryly, though he had to admit that watching a dozen humans make fools of themselves was a little bit amusing. He rubbed Dean’s back, grateful that Dean wasn’t one of them.

Dean stirred at the touch, turning his head to a more comfortable position before settling back down. A moment later, Castiel became aware of a curious sensation. He stiffened a little as he realized what was going on, and Gabriel glanced over at him. Castiel didn’t look back at him, too focused on what was happening. Other angels had tried to describe this before, but there weren’t really words for how peculiar it felt. And since he’d never expected Dean to be willing to do it, he’d never put much thought into it.

“Cassie? What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked.

“Dean’s nursing,” Castiel said, hardly believing those two words had come out of his mouth. Judging from the expression on Gabriel’s face, his brother couldn’t either.

“What?” he hissed, just barely remembering to keep his voice down. He jumped up and came over to the couch so that he could see for himself. Castiel turned his head slowly and both of them looked at Dean.

His upper body was leaning heavily against Castiel, but Dean had angled his head so that his face was closer to Castiel’s wings. He’d sucked the tip of a primary into his mouth and was lightly suckling at the black feather, eyes closed. There was a look of complete contentment on his face. His throat worked every ten or so seconds, indicating that he was swallowing grace.

“Oh, that’s weird,” Castiel murmured. His vessel shivered, which was also an unusual feeling, but he didn’t know how else to translate the sensation physically. He tightened his grip around Dean's waist.

By nursing on Castiel’s wings, Dean was drinking pure grace. It was good for him, of course: while his wings and feathers had been growing, Dean had barely consumed any grace at all. Nursing would probably provide more than he really needed, particularly if done regularly, but any excess wouldn't hurt Dean either. He'd just never thought that Dean would want to nurse. There was something so intimate about it.

"What does it feel like?" Gabriel said, coming around to the other side of the couch for a better view.

"I don't know how to describe it. Like something's tugging on my grace, but it doesn't hurt and I don't feel the need to lash out to stop it." He shifted the baby a little bit, tucking Dean closer to him. "It's... peaceful?"

"Peaceful?" Gabriel repeated, sounding skeptical.

Castiel thought about it and then nodded. "Yes, peaceful. I can feel Dean," he added, a little surprised. His bond with Dean was always active, particularly now that Dean was a hatchling. But he could actually feel Dean's soul right now. It was full of warmth and pleasure. This was making Dean very happy. "And I think that he can feel me. It seems to make him feel safe."

"Huh," Gabriel said, crossing his arms and backing off a little. He tipped his head to the side, then shook it. "Nope, sorry. It's just weird."

"It's not weird," Castiel said, despite the fact that he'd said that himself not two minutes ago. "Actually, now that I'm getting used to it, it's not that bad." Being able to sense the baby's contentment was actually making him feel very relaxed. 

"Right. I'll take your word for it."

"Honestly, Gabriel. Are you telling me you wouldn't let Sam nurse if he wanted to?"

Gabriel winced. "Nope. Not in the slightest. Sammy will have to make do with bottles or sippy cups of grace. My wings are not up for grabs." He drew his wings around himself protectively. "And I like Dean, but I'm very glad it's your wings he's gnawing on, not mine."

"He's not gnawing on them!" Castiel said, laughing. "He's suckling like he does with a bottle. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Still going to just take your word for it."

Castiel rolled his eyes but let it go, turning back to the television. He didn't bother pointing out that it hadn't taken Dean long to ensnare Gabriel's heart, and Dean was just Gabriel's nephew. He was positive that when Sam and Gabriel finally moved to the stage where Sam was consuming grace, Gabriel would do just about anything for Sam - and that included letting Sam nurse if he desired. But he kept those thoughts to himself for the time being. It would be much more fun to tease Gabriel when it finally happened.

Dean nursed for a little while longer before falling into a deep enough sleep that he stopped. Castiel gently moved his wing out of reach, glancing at the feather that had been in Dean's mouth. It was a little damp at the tip, but otherwise unharmed. And his grace didn't feel depleted. If anything, he felt slightly stronger than before Dean had nursed. Curious.

"I'm going to put Dean to bed," he said to Gabriel. "He needs a change."

Gabriel just nodded, already absorbed in the show. Castiel stood, picking Dean up with him, and carried the baby into the bedroom. Dean slept right through the diaper change, thumb tucked into his mouth, hair falling over his eyes. He didn't even stir when Castiel tucked him back into bed and put Dean's bee and fox into the bed with him, or when Castiel turned on the mobile. The soft, twinkling sound of 'Hey Jude' filled the room as Castiel quietly slipped out.


	53. Chapter 53

Dean woke to find himself back in his bed, with the soothing sound of his mobile’s song playing somewhere above him. For a moment he wasn’t sure had woken him, but all too quickly he realized that he was hot. He squirmed out from underneath the covers, pushing them aside until his body was exposed to the cooler air of the room. The fact that he was dressed only in a diaper (dry and _not_ messy this time, thank you) and a t-shirt helped, but he couldn’t fall back asleep. He was too awake now.

“I’m still tired,” he complained to his fox, but she just looked back at him with her round blue eyes and offered no words of wisdom. Not that she could since she was a stuffed animal, but sometimes it was nice to let his imagination have its way and believe that she could. 

He rolled out of bed and to his feet, then staggered as a feeling of dizziness swept over him. He braced himself against the bed, waiting until it passed. He wouldn’t have been able to say that he felt _well_ , exactly. His head was kind of fuzzy and he was still overly warm, but in that way that seemed skin-deep. And the dizziness didn’t go away, though it did lessen and he was able to cautiously straighten up.

Movement across the room caught his attention. Dean turned his head and froze at the sight of a shadowed reflection in the mirror, one that had an extra set of limbs. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that it was his own reflection he was staring at, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen his wings yet. Supposedly the bare monstrosities he’d seen before were gone, and he actually had feathers now.

He shuffled over to the wall and turned the light on. It was very bright, but Dean was too curious to care. He moved back to the mirror, pointedly ignoring how stupid the diaper looked, and just focused on the wings. They weren’t as big as he was expecting, though the feathers did go a long way in making them more attractive. The feathers themselves were somewhere between red and brown, with a hint of gold at the base. Copper, maybe?

It wasn’t a bad color, he guessed. A little brighter than he would’ve liked. This color wouldn’t be helpful for hunting, and for that reason he’d hoped for a color like dark green or navy. But then again, it was sounding more and more like Dean wouldn’t be hunting for a while if Castiel had anything to say about it. Probably by the time he did get to hunt, Castiel would teach him how to hide his wings. 

What he noticed the most was that the wings didn’t really look real. Oh, the feathers were too detailed to be fake, but his brain didn’t want to accept them. That was the problem. His brain was telling him that they didn’t really belong to him, like they were a costume piece he’d slipped on. Yet when he rolled his shoulder experimentally, the wing twitched with him and he could _feel_ how the new bones and muscles were moving. The dichotomy between what his brain and body were telling him was nauseating and he squeezed his eyes shut, dizzy.

“I think that’s enough of that,” Castiel said, and Dean jumped as his daddy picked him up, letting Dean hide his face in Castiel’s shoulder. Some hunter he was. He hadn’t even realized Castiel was watching him, and had no idea how long Castiel had been there.

“I feel dizzy,” he mumbled.

“You’ll get used to having your wings, Dean. You just need to give it time," Castiel murmured, one strong hand settling on Dean's back, between his wings. 

"Don't like them," Dean said. It wasn't really the truth - he wasn't sure how he felt about the wings yet, except that he was really glad that they were no longer ugly fleshy lumps - but it felt good to say anyway.

"I think you'll learn to like them. You didn't like it when I first started hunting with you and Sam, but you got used to that and now we're a family." Castiel kissed the side of his head. "Change takes time to get used to, little one, but I promise that if you give it some time, you'll learn to love your wings. Just think of how jealous Sam's going to be when he sees them."

Castiel had a point. Sam was going to be green with envy. The thought was a little comforting, even though Dean felt selfish just for thinking it. "Don't wanna show him yet."

"Oh, baby, don't worry about it. It's going to be a few days before you feel like leaving the nest."

Of course, that just made Dean feel contrary. Suddenly, leaving the house sounded like the best thing ever. He pushed at Castiel's shoulders until he could lean back a bit and look Castiel in the face. "Outside?" he asked plaintively. "Can I see the sun?"

"Why don't we get you changed first, and then we can see," Castiel said, already turning to face the changing table. Dean hadn't even realized that he'd wet himself sometime in the past twenty minutes since waking, but sure enough his diaper was wet when Castiel removed it. He frowned, not sure how to feel about that. It seemed to be happening more and more. 

The sound of voices drew his attention away from the diaper change; he knew Gabriel's voice immediately, of course, but it sounded like Gabriel was speaking to someone. Dean listened hard as Castiel wiped him down. It was the sound of laughter that did it, and he squirmed a little as he recognized Balthazar's voice. It felt like it had been a long time since he'd seen anyone but Castiel and Gabriel. He still maintained that he didn't like Balthazar that much - the guy had the tendency to be a dick, just not as much of a dick as the rest of the angels - but it would be nice to see someone else.

Castiel smiled at him as he taped the diaper into place. "There you go, baby. Come here." He lifted Dean up and carried him out of the room, down the hall and into the living room.

"Hey kiddo!" Gabriel said, throwing his arms open wide. Dean wiggled until Castiel set him down and then dashed across the room, throwing himself into Gabriel's arms. Gabriel hugged him tightly, even wrapping his wings around Dean's body, something that only Castiel had done up until now. And Dean was quickly discovering that there was nothing quite like being wrapped up in an angel's wings: there were just no words to describe how soft, yet strong, they were, and it made Dean feel very little and very safe every time.

"Hello, Dean," Balthazar said. "I see your feathers have grown in. They're very pretty."

Dean peeked up at him, surprised by the compliment. "I like your wings today too," he said shyly. Balthazar's wings were yellow today.

"Thank you. I'm pleased that least you have taste."

"All I said was that the color is a little bright," Castiel said, rolling his eyes.

Balthazar just sniffed at him. "You're just not adventurous enough, Cassie."

"Yes, that's what it is," Castiel said dryly.

"Stop bickering, you two. I want to give Dean-o his gift," said Gabriel.

Gift? That caught Dean's attention immediately. He slid his fingers into his mouth and peered up at Gabriel. There was a huge grin on Gabriel's face, which probably meant something really good or really bad was about to happen. With Gabriel, you never knew which one it was until it was too late. But Castiel didn't look too worried. Actually, his daddy was smiling too. So that meant something good, right? Unless it was the kind of "good" like his wings growing in, which Dean didn't really count as good. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Gabriel laughed, apparently knowing where his thoughts had gone. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I promise you're going to like this gift very much. Balthazar picked it up for me." He reached down and plucked a red box off the floor, gently setting it on Dean's lap. "It's tradition for hatchlings and nestlings to get a present when their wings come out."

Dean looked down at the box, speechless. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a present that wasn't booze or porn magazines. Castiel had bought him all kinds of toys and stuff, but none of those had been wrapped up in a pretty box like whatever this was. He was sure that he'd gotten presents at Christmas or his birthday when his mom was alive, but he couldn't remember back that far. Any gifts from his father when he was a kid had usually been hunting gear of some kind. Bobby had never been big on gifts, and Sam usually stuck to the aforementioned porn or alcohol. For a moment, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to open it.

"Go ahead, Dean," Gabriel said gently, putting a hand on Dean's head. "It's okay. Open it. I want you to."

He couldn't ignore that, could he? Slowly, Dean reached out and took the top off the box. Something dark moved inside the confines of the box and he froze. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. But then a little head rose and big blue eyes were staring up at Dean. A tiny mouth yawned, revealing white teeth and a tongue that was just as pink as its nose and the inside of its ears. The kitten squinted its blue eyes and started to purr, as though the sight of Dean was pleasing enough that it had to make its opinion known.

"A kitten?" Dean whispered around his fingers, shocked to his core.

"Yep. I thought you might like to have a pet."

A pet. The word was pretty much foreign to Dean. John had made it very clear from a young age that pets weren't going to happen because their life on the road wasn't conducive to animals: most motels didn't allow them, John wouldn't allow fur in the Impala, and sometimes they barely had the money to keep Dean and Sam fed, never mind a pet. That rule had actually prompted one of the biggest fights ever between Sam and John the day that Sam found a puppy he wanted to keep. And who could forget that time Sam run away from home and adopted a dog of his own? Dean sure couldn't. 

"They're dirty," Dean said, the only thing he could think of to say. His heart was pounding. "And I'm 'lergic."

"Hatchlings don't have allergies," Castiel said, moving across the room until he was standing in front of them. He knelt in front of Dean and reached into the box, lifting out the kitten. Gabriel removed the box, leaving space for Castiel to set the kitten on Dean's lap. "It's okay, little one. Uncle Gabriel bought this kitten with my permission. I'm not going to take her away."

"Her?"

Gabriel grinned. "That's right. Her." He gently nudged the kitten with his finger. She whipped her head around and snapped at his finger, though her teeth and claws wouldn't have been strong enough to hurt a human, much less an angel.

Her. Dean had a kitten that was a girl. Wonderingly, half-afraid the kitten might be snatched away after all, he lightly touched her fur. She sniffed his hand and then purred again, rubbing her face against his palm. Very carefully, Dean scratched her head. He smiled when she started purring even louder. He didn't have much experience with cats. Sam had always been obsessed with dogs. But Dean was deeply, painfully relieved that Gabriel had not brought home a puppy. Ever since his encounter with the hell hounds, Dean couldn't stand to be around dogs. He'd never told anyone about it, but even just the sound of a dog howling or barking sent chills down his spine and immediately transported him back to that horrible day. The first time he'd encountered a big, growling dog after hell, it had sent him into a panic attack.

"What are you going to name her?" Balthazar asked. Dean looked up at him, surprised to see that Balthazar was actually smiling at him. 

"I... I dunno," he said, confused. He'd never named anything before. Back when they were kids, Sam used to have a name for every toy that the two of them owned. But it was Sam who would name them, not Dean. He could vividly remember finding a stuffed lion in the garbage can on his way home from school once. He'd spent the whole walk trying to figure out what a good name would be, only to walk into the motel room and have the lion immediately be stolen by Sam - the toddler had been going through a phase where he thought everything belonged to him, and he had named the toy. Dean had sort of given up after then. It just didn't seem worth the battle.

"Well, you can think about it," Balthazar said, exchanging a look with Castiel. "She doesn't need a name right away. If I recall correctly, it took Gabriel at least a week to deliver your daddy's name."

"That was thousands of years ago, and I was a little busy," Gabriel huffed. "Time to let it go."

Dean carefully petted the kitten's fur again as light-hearted squabbling broke out over his head. Castiel touched his knee and smiled at him, and Dean couldn't help smiling back.


	54. Chapter 54

The kitten was good for Dean. It took less than twelve hours for Castiel to tell that much. That night, he put Dean down for bed just like he always would. The kitten crept into the room and leapt up onto Dean’s bed. Dean stared at her in astonishment as she strutted up the bed and onto his pillow. She curled up into a warm little ball right beside Dean’s head and started to purr. The look on Dean’s face – equal parts shock and awe – was something to be treasured.

“I guess you have a little companion now,” Castiel said, gently running a finger down the kitten’s back. She arched into the touch and purred louder. “I’m sure she’ll guard your dreams so that you don’t have any nightmares, just good ones.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Kittens can’t do that, Daddy.”

“Well, it can’t hurt.” He grabbed the covers and pulled them up around the base of Dean’s wings. “Do you want me to read to you for a while?”

It had been a little while since they’d had the chance to read together at night, and Dean nodded eagerly. Castiel perched on the edge of the bed and slipped a pacifier into Dean’s mouth before picking up the book. Dean sucked placidly on the pacifier, eyes drooping, as Castiel began to read. He didn’t get through more than half a chapter before Dean was asleep and snoring softly. The kitten was asleep as well, tiny tail flicking every so often.

“Good night, sweet boy,” Castiel said softly, setting the book aside. He kissed the top of Dean’s head and switched on the mobile, then quietly left the room. He left the door open a crack in case Dean woke up and then went out to the living room.

He was greeted by two grave expressions and frowned at his brothers. “What’s wrong?”

“Demons,” Balthazar said by way of explanation. “They’ve been noticed around your wards, Cassie.”

"Damn Crowley," Castiel muttered, cursing the King of Hell. If he'd thought there was any chance of Crowley seeing reason, he would've tried to make a deal with the man. Certainly, there was value in having the Winchesters and their angels otherwise occupied for the next several years. But this was Crowley they were talking about, and Castiel was through making deals with demons. It was bad enough they'd been forced to work with Crowley during the Apocalypse.

Making the situation worse was that Crowley was the devil that they knew. It wouldn't be overly difficult to smite him – well, Castiel would have a battle on his hands if he were to try, but Gabriel was an archangel and could probably smite Crowley without too much difficulty – but it was impossible to know who would end up taking Crowley's place. Sam and Dean were universally hated, and the thought of someone like Lilith ending up in charge of hell was not promising. 

“We actually don't think that these are Crowley's demons, baby bro. These are rogue demons. Lucifer’s followers,” Gabriel said. “I thought we’d gotten most of them, but it seems our brother had more reserves than we realized.”

Castiel frowned at that and sat down beside Balthazar. Lucifer. Would he ever stop being such a thorn in their side? It did make sense that any demons loyal to him would be after Dean and Sam. They were responsible for helping to seal Lucifer away in the cage, and it was a lot easier to go after two humans than it would be to attack an angel or an archangel. He could be sure that Dean was safe because he was never out of someone’s sight, but Sam… He glanced at Gabriel.

“Did you increase the protection around Sam?” he asked.

“What do you take me for? Of course I did. Sammy’s got at least three sets of eyes on him at any given time. Kiddo’s never alone at this point. His dorm room is already outfitted with every anti-demon sigil he knows of, but I added a few more and had the students and professors he spends the most time with thoroughly vetted. Even hid some hex bags amongst their belongings.” Gabriel paused, then added, “I didn’t tell him, though.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Castiel admitted. He knew that Sam and Dean hated being left in the dark. But Sam had made such a huge deal out of going back to school like a “normal” student – heavy emphasis on normal – that it seemed unfair to put him on high-alert. Castiel didn’t know much about university beyond what little Dean had told him, but constantly looking for demons didn’t seem conducive to an education. 

“You should be careful as well. Lucifer didn’t like you very much either,” Balthazar said, looking at Castiel with concern. “You would be one of their prime targets if they're out for revenge.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about Dean and Sam.”

“Well, you and the baby will be okay. I’m not planning on going anywhere soon,” said Gabriel. “And short of bringing Sam here, he’s as safe as I can make him.”

Castiel considered that scenario for all of five seconds before shaking his head. “No. Dean’s not ready for that, and Sam would be upset that hunting is getting in the way of his education again.” He tried to imagine bringing Sam into the nest and grimaced. There was no way that would go over well. He’d barely gotten Dean to the point where he was okay with the diapers and bottles in front of other angels, and that was only because he’d repeatedly reassured Dean that to an angel, this process was normal for hatchlings. Dean was only just finally starting to accept that.

But having Sam around would basically set Dean back to square one. There was no way Dean would allow himself to use a diaper or to drink from a bottle or to be carried if his brother was here. And that would be disastrous because Dean couldn’t really control his bladder anymore, so the chances that he’d end up wetting himself in front of Sam would be quite high. Castiel pictured Dean’s reaction to that, based on what had happened at Bobby’s house, and figured a full-scale meltdown would be the only answer.

Gabriel looked like he was having the exact same thoughts as Castiel, judging from the look on his face. “I know. But at least Sam can still protect himself. He’s got the demon-killing knife with him and he still has his anti-possession tattoo. And he also knows that if he’s in trouble and he prays, I’ll hear him. That’s really the best we can do.”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t like it, but he knew that Gabriel was right. “Dean’s getting restless. I was hoping to be able to take him for a walk once his fever breaks.”

“That should be in the next couple of days now that his feathers are out,” Gabriel said. “So long as we stuck around here, it should be okay. I’ll come with you, and maybe Balthazar can as well.” He glanced at Balthazar.

“Surely it would be safer to just keep the baby indoors?” Balthazar asked.

“Dean doesn’t cope well with being told he’s not allowed to do something,” Castiel said wryly. “And also, he’s been cooped up in the nest for a couple of weeks. I think it would do him some good to be outside for a little while.” He was pretty sure that this was the longest amount of time that Dean had been in one place for years. Because even when Dean and Sam had to hang around one town for a hunt for more than a couple of weeks, Dean was used to taking the Impala for drives by himself. 

“What about taking him to the other side of the world?” Balthazar suggested. “The demons know you’re here. If you flew to Europe maybe, or Japan, they wouldn’t be expecting that.” He smiled wickedly. “I know some of the best places to visit in Tokyo, actually – ”

“And I’m sure none of them are appropriate for a baby,” Castiel cut him off, giving him a look. Balthazar’s smile was pure innocence that didn’t fool Castiel for a second.

Gabriel was trying not to smile as he said, “Regardless, I don’t think Dean should be flying right now if we can avoid it. Flight is usually hard on hatchlings and nestlings right after their wings come out. No, I think we’ll be fine if we just take a short walk here. It won’t be for another couple of days. Maybe before then, the guards will have gotten rid of the rest of the demons.” He didn’t sound very hopeful, though.

“But you’re not leaving the house right now,” Balthazar checked.

“No.”

“Excellent.” He got to his feet, stretching gracefully. “Then I have some places to visit in Tokyo. Let me know when you want to take your walk.” He winked at Castiel, spread his wings and flew away.

Castiel shook his head at the place where Balthazar had been and reached out with his grace to tell Balthazar exactly how incorrigible he was. The only sensations he got back were a feeling of strong amusement and an increased determination to visit this particular place in Tokyo where Balthazar could – and Castiel severed the link, feeling his vessel’s face flush at the images Balthazar had shown him.

“Speaking of Dean’s wings,” Gabriel said, looking way too amused for Castiel’s tastes, “I have something for the baby. I picked it up that day we all went shopping.”

“Is this one of your surprises?” Castiel asked.

“Yup.” Gabriel made a show of snapping his fingers. A large toy appeared in the room beside him, and at first Castiel wasn’t sure what it was. It had a strong steel frame that was a circle on the bottom for added stability. Poles rose from the circle to form an arch that was a few inches taller than Castiel. Hanging from the arch was what Castiel figured was a seat, though an oddly shaped one made from some kind of fabric with two holes for legs and a tray that could snap around your waist. 

“What is it?” he asked, puzzled.

In response, Gabriel pushed down on the seat and let go. It bounced and he grinned. “It’s for Dean. He didn’t seem to like bouncing on your knee very much, so this will help him exercise his wings. I have a few toys that can be attached up here.” He patted the top of the arch. “The idea is that when he reaches for the toys, it’ll make him bounce and his wings will respond accordingly. If he’s not playing with the toys, the seat can be set to bounce anyway.”

Castiel stepped closer, realizing for the first time that the seat was attached with a very flexible cord. It didn’t take much pressure to make it bounce, and he found the controls that would make it do so by smoothly withdrawing and releasing the cord. He was certain that those automated controls would come in handy, since he didn’t think Dean would have much interest in bouncing himself at first.

The unit was also taller than he’d first assumed; Dean wouldn’t be able to stand on flat feet, meaning that he’d having to use his wings for balance. He also noticed that it could be adjusted, likely so that as Dean got used to using his wings the seat could be raised so that his wings were fully balancing him. The end result would be an excellent workout for Dean’s wings, much better than just setting Dean on Castiel’s knee and bouncing him.

“It’s perfect,” Castiel said with a smile. “Dean’s going to hate it, but it’s exactly what he needs.”

“Oh yeah, he’ll hate it,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the tray. “That can be locked with grace, so Dean can’t get free or climb out until we come to get him.”

An image of Dean’s frustrated face flashed through Castiel’s head. He couldn’t help chuckling. “I think this might just be enough to eliminate your status as the favorite uncle.”

Gabriel shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Why do you think I gave him the kitten first?”


	55. Chapter 55

His daddy and uncle were mean and stupid and Dean did _not_ like them anymore.

He slumped forward, panting and fatigued from his struggles. When Castiel had first set him down in the swing, Dean hadn’t really understood what was going on. He’d dangled there like an idiot, legs forced embarrassingly wide by the plastic part between his thighs, feet skimming the ground, staring at Castiel in confusion. It was the kind of bucket swing that really little kids used on a playground because they didn’t have the core muscles necessary to hold themselves up on a regular swing, but which Dean didn’t need.

Castiel had clasped the tray around his waist and then stepped back, lifting his right hand to hit some kind of control. To say that Dean wasn’t happy when the swing bounced, causing his wings to flutter, was an understatement. He’d squeaked, hands clutching at the tray around his waist, half-expecting the swing to flip him ass over head. But whether due to the build of the bouncer or angelic mojo, he’d remained surprisingly steady.

Then Castiel walked away and left him. Dean was outraged. His first course of action was to grab for the arch overhead, but he couldn’t stretch far enough to reach it even when he braced his feet against the floor. His second was prying at the tray around his waist, but it remained stubbornly in place. And it only took him a few seconds to work out that he couldn’t remove the bucket swing without removing the tray, because they were hooked into each other.

Each time the swing bounced – it seemed to be set to move about once every thirty seconds, barely giving Dean the chance to rest between bounces – his wings moved accordingly. He couldn’t even figure out how to stop them. The muscles in his back quivered uselessly. Even reaching over his shoulder and physically grabbing his wings didn’t really help, because they twitched so much when the seat bounced that he might as well have not been holding onto them at all. Besides that, his wings were still sensitive enough that holding onto them hurt.

Needless to say, Dean was _not_ a happy camper. Struggling so much had tired him out, and he was dismayed to find that the bucket swing was high enough that he couldn’t reach the floor even when he bent double. The tray prevented him from tipping forward, so the front bars were just out of reach. And apparently, while the stupid swing would go up and down with abandon, it wouldn’t move forwards or backwards. So he couldn’t even grab onto something to drag himself free.

Dean was well and truly stuck. He scowled as the bouncing kicked in again, straightening up and grabbing the ropes for better support. Trying to pull himself up the ropes didn’t work either. He had the upper body strength to do it, but the tray was just a little too snug around his waist and the diaper was too bulky to fit through. Squirming made the diaper, slightly damp from sweat, rub uncomfortably against his thighs and dick, and he finally slumped again.

The realization that he was well and truly stuck until Castiel came to free him did not sit well, especially because he couldn’t see his daddy. Dean lifted his head, looking at the door to the kitchen. Unfortunately, he was angled in such a way that he couldn’t see inside. He had no way of knowing whether Castiel was in there or not. He had to be, right? There was no way Castiel would lock him in here and leave.

“Daddy?” Dean called cautiously. There was no answer. Dean rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip, trying to ignore the first flutter of panicked unease. He’d mostly gotten over the terror of not having Castiel in his sight that had developed after they were attacked by the demons. But he wasn’t used to this kind of silence. Since this whole thing had started, Dean was very rarely left alone unless he was napping or sleeping. He tried to tell himself that it was fine, but the truth was that he didn’t like it. Especially not when he was trapped.

The bouncer bounced him again, jarring loose a sob. He muffled it by sliding his thumb in his mouth and sucking, staring intently at the kitchen. Where was Daddy? Why wasn’t he in the room? Did he know that Dean was mad? Dean wasn’t that mad. He didn’t like the bouncer, and he definitely didn’t like how little it made him feel, and his back and shoulders were aching, but he didn’t hate Daddy. 

What if Daddy left?

That thought made his lungs squeeze tight in his chest. The room grew blurry as hot tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks. Panic laced through him and Dean started to struggle again, unable to hold the gasped sobs back anymore. He wanted Daddy. He had to make sure that Daddy was still here – 

“Dean!”

Dean started to cry in earnest as his daddy rushed across the room, holding his arms up. “Daaaddyyyy!” he wailed, fighting to get closer even as Daddy reached for the controls and switched them off. The bucket swing stilled, and when Daddy touched the tray it fell away like magic. He gripped Dean under the arms and lifted him up until Dean could get his arms around Daddy’s neck and cling to him, sobbing.

“Dean, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Daddy was running a hand up and down his back, feeling around the base of Dean’s wings for damage. The touch, soothing as it was, made his muscles ache worse, and Dean cried harder.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” Uncle Gabriel said from behind them.

“I don’t know. I was in the kitchen gathering grace for some bottles when I heard him start to cry. He was panicking.”

“Maybe he didn’t like being trapped.”

“Daddy gone,” Dean gasped out, tremors running through him. “Daddy –”

“What? Dean, I wasn’t gone. I was just in the kitchen.” Daddy tried to pry him away so that he could look at Dean, but Dean refused to let go. His cries escalated when Daddy persisted, so Daddy gave up and just let him cuddle closer. His wings wrapped around Dean’s lower body, holding him in place.

“I thought he’d want privacy for the bouncer because he’d be embarrassed,” Daddy said to Uncle Gabriel. He sounded distressed. “I didn’t think he thought I’d _leave_!”

“Maybe it was just too much at once,” Uncle Gabriel said. “He’s probably sore, even though he wasn’t in there very long.” He put a hand on Dean’s hair and stroked it comfortingly. Dean unclamped a hand from where it was clutching Daddy’s shirt to reach for him with a whimper. Uncle Gabriel shushed him and stepped closer, letting Dean grab onto his wing.

It took a long time for Dean to calm down. He had a headache by the time he finished crying himself out, and he laid limply in Daddy’s arms, one arm around Daddy’s neck and the other still holding onto Uncle Gabriel. They pried his hand free of Uncle Gabriel and Daddy carried him over to the couch, sitting down with Dean in his lap. Dean kept his eyes on Uncle Gabriel, uttering a wordless protest when Uncle Gabriel disappeared into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Daddy said, cupping his tear stained face and looking into Dean’s eyes. “Baby boy, it’s okay. We will never leave you alone. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

“Daddy,” Dean whispered.

“I’m right here. It’s okay,” Daddy murmured. His voice rumbled through his chest where Dean’s ear was pressed, and it was comforting to hear. He closed his eyes and slipped his thumb into his mouth. 

“Look who I found,” Uncle Gabriel said, walking back into the room. He was carrying a bottle filled with water in one hand and the kitten in the other. He set the kitten down on Dean’s lap. She stretched luxuriously, then sauntered up Dean’s chest, little claws leaving pin-pricks of pain in Dean’s skin. She perched there, blue eyes staring unblinking at Dean, then reached out a paw to tap him on the nose.

Dean giggled in spite of himself and heard Daddy and Uncle Gabriel chuckling. Daddy pulled him up a little, careful not to dislodge the kitten, and guided the nipple of the bottle into Dean’s mouth. He latched on, drinking the water eagerly. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until this moment, but his throat was dry and scratchy from crying. The water was wonderfully cool and helped to soothe the last of the panic, though being in Daddy’s arms and having Uncle Gabriel hovering nearby was most important.

“There you go,” Daddy said softly. “That’s my good boy. You’re doing so well, Dean.” He kept his eyes on Dean but spoke to Uncle Gabriel, adding, “I never expected him to react like that. I’m not sure the bouncer is such a good idea.”

“Don’t write it off, Cassie. This was a bad first experience yes, but Dean needs to exercise his wings. We both know that. Next time, one of us will just stay in the room with him.” Uncle Gabriel sat down beside them and wrapped his wing around Daddy’s shoulders, mostly silver feathers mixing with Daddy’s black feathers. 

Daddy sighed. “I was so sure he’d want privacy.”

“It wasn’t a bad thought. Any other time, he probably would. This is a stubborn, proud Winchester we’re talking about, right baby boy?” Uncle Gabriel tapped Dean’s nose, just like the kitten had. Dean wrinkled his nose and batted his hand away, swallowing the last of his water.

“Is your back sore?” Daddy asked.

Dean didn’t have to think very hard before nodding. His muscles, particularly those in his upper back, were _very_ sore. It reminded him of when John would put him and Sammy through training when they were kids. Sometimes the training was so intense that Dean would end up throwing up or blacking out. And it always ended with pain of some kind, whether it was aching muscles or a sprained ankle or powder burns on their hands from holding the gun wrong.

John hadn’t possessed much sympathy. His answer was usually either telling them to man up, or – on days when Sam’s tears got to him – a bottle of Tylenol chucked in Dean’s direction. The pain lessened as they got used to the intensity of the training, though even now there were days when Dean would feel the burn if he hadn’t worked out in a while. Or at least he used to. He blinked up at Daddy.

Castiel. Not Daddy. What had Dean been thinking? He wasn’t supposed to be calling Castiel ‘Daddy’ inside his own head! Was he? Dean frowned as Daddy smiled down at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was confused now. He knew that he shouldn’t be thinking of Castiel this way, but Castiel _was_ his daddy now. It was embarrassing, but… was it bad to let that barrier melt away?

“Turn over. I’ll rub your back a little bit. That will help.” Daddy – no, Castiel set the empty bottle aside and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, mojoing Dean’s shirt away. Uncle Gabriel scooped the kitten up and held her on his lap as he helped Dean to roll over without falling and placed his hands on Dean’s bare upper back. Dean slipped his thumb in his mouth, tensing a little in the expectation of pain.

But it didn’t hurt, not really. Da – Castiel knew just where the worst of the knots were and he dug the tips of his fingers in unerringly, rubbing just hard enough that it stung. Dean relaxed with a shaky breath, letting Daddy massage the worst of the tension and pain away. It felt even better when Uncle Gabriel took Dean’s free hand and put it on the kitten, encouraging him to pet her in the same way. The kitten immediately began to purr, her fuzzy body shifting beneath Dean’s fingers.

“I think we’ll give you a hot bath tonight,” Daddy said, trailing his fingers down Dean’s spine. “Would you like that?”

Dean nodded. “No bouncer,” he added around his thumb, just in case Daddy hadn’t gotten the idea. Just looking at the bouncer made his tummy do flip flips. He shivered and huddled a little closer to Daddy. 

Daddy laughed a little. “Not today, but we’ll try again tomorrow. You want to be able to fly to heaven someday, right?”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head. He was perfectly content on Earth.

“But just think,” Uncle Gabriel said, leaning down to grin conspiratorially. “If you don’t learn how to fly, you won’t be able to scare the pants off Sam by showing up behind him when he’s not expecting it.”

“Gabriel!” Daddy said.

Dean considered this. Okay, that was pretty tempting. But still – “It hurts,” he said in a small voice, feeling very stupid. He was a hunter. He was used to pain. Clearly, they had been babying him too much. He braced himself for Gabriel to laugh again and tell him to man up.

Instead, Gabriel just gave him a tender smile. “I know it does, kiddo. And you have no idea how much your daddy and I wish we could spare you that. But if you give it a chance, I promise it’ll get better. Soon you’ll be able to flap your wings and it won’t hurt at all.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Getting to that point might suck, but it’s all worth it.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered. He wasn’t sure, but Daddy and Uncle Gabriel wanted it and he wanted to make them happy.

“Okay,” Uncle Gabriel agreed, still smiling sadly. “Now close your eyes and let Cassie rub your aches away. I’ll get supper on.”

“Pie?” Dean said hopefully, peeking up at him. Uncle Gabriel was nodding almost before the word was out.

“One pie for our brave little boy, coming your way.”


	56. Chapter 56

“Okay. Look at me, Dean.” Castiel waited patiently until the baby’s green eyes flicked up to him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right here the whole time. I promise I won’t leave.”

Dean looked at him for a long moment without speaking before he turned back to the bouncer. It was obvious he didn’t wholly believe Castiel’s promise, not that Castiel could really blame him about that. The baby had been very clingy all of Tuesday night and all day yesterday, crying if he thought that Castiel might take so much as a step out of his sight. Castiel had ended up sleeping with Dean for the past two nights, and Dean had woken up half a dozen times clutching at him desperately. 

The knowledge that Dean’s reaction was entirely Castiel’s fault weighed heavily on his shoulders. It hadn’t once occurred to him that Dean might be upset to be left alone in the bouncer, though in retrospect he could understand how stupid that line of thinking had been. Both Sam and Dean had always reacted unpleasantly to being bound or tied in any way, and that was when they were both hunting. Dean was especially vulnerable right now and was depending on Castiel to make the right judgment calls.

He hated himself for having been the cause of Dean’s distress. Feeling Dean’s panic through their bond had been alarming enough, but running into the room and seeing Dean in hysterics was worse. Castiel was determined to never make a similar mistake if he could help it. And unlike some of the human parents he’d watched in the past, he had the benefit of a baby who could understand when Castiel to spoke him. He was planning to take full advantage of that.

He wrapped both wing and arm around Dean’s shoulders, hugging him gently. “You know why it’s important to exercise your wings,” he murmured. “Uncle Gabe has explained that to you a couple times. This bouncer will help you do that. Until you learn to control the muscles around your wings, you need outside stimulation to help. Every hatchling, nestling and fledgling goes through this, baby.”

Dean considered that, eyeing the bouncer with mistrust. “But I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t. Will you just give it one more try, though? Please?”

It took several seconds before Dean nodded reluctantly. Castiel lifted him off the floor and over the swing, letting him slide his feet through the opening in the bucket swing. Dean did not look pleased once he was fully seated, hands buried in the front of Castiel’s shirt. He made a distressed sound when Castiel reached for the tray. Castiel paused, looking at his face and the ill-concealed expression of panic, and made a decision.

“Why don’t we try it without the tray?” he suggested. The tray was designed for two purposes: the first was to keep Dean inside the swing and prevent him from hurting himself by falling or trying to climb out. The second was to provide a place for some toys that would help to keep Dean occupied while he was in the bouncer. But since Castiel was going to standing right here and Dean did not look like he was interested in any toys, he figured that it was better to forgo the tray this time.

“Okay,” Dean whispered. His hands were trembling. Castiel set a hand on the top of his head, realizing that Dean was genuinely frightened. It hurt to see his baby so upset. He knew that Dean didn’t like exercising his wings, but it was something that had to be done. The ache and discomfort of new muscles being used would fade in time.

“I’m going to turn it on now,” Castiel said quietly. “I’m going to be right here, though. I won’t leave.” Keeping one hand on Dean, he reached up with the other to switch the bouncer onto the lowest setting. Dean was very tense, knuckles white where he was holding onto Castiel. 

The first bounce made Dean yelp with surprise. His wings fluttered automatically. Castiel scrutinized the copper feathers, making sure that everything was moving the way it was supposed to. He’d heard stories about wings coming in wrong, but it looked like Dean’s were moving properly. A little quickly and sporadically maybe, but that wasn’t surprising since Dean wasn’t really controlling the movement yet. Finesse would come with time.

“It’s okay. You’re fine,” he cooed, stroking Dean’s hair. Dean’s breathing had picked up a little, coming in little pants. Castiel thought quickly, wondering what a suitable distraction would be. And then, glimpsing his own black feathers out of the corner of his eye, he had it.

“Dean, sweetheart, how would you like to groom my wings?” he asked impulsively as the bouncer moved a second time.

Dean’s eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut until that point, blinked open. He peered up at Castiel through damp eyelashes. “Daddy stay?” he asked, voice all quivery in a way that broke Castiel’s heart. 

“Yes, baby, of course. I’m not going anywhere.” He gently pried Dean’s fingers out of his shirt, hurrying when he heard Dean whimper. He quickly turned, angling his wings back until they brushed against Dean’s grasping fingers. He winced when Dean’s fingers grabbed onto his wings a little too hard but didn’t pull away, instead glancing over his shoulder at Dean. 

He wasn’t actually sure that Dean would be able to groom his wings right now. It required concentration, especially when realigning feathers. And Castiel’s wings didn’t really need to be done since he and Gabriel had been grooming each other fairly regularly. But Dean had definitely developed a preference for wings, so he thought it might help. He remained still as Dean leaned forward until he could bury his face in Castiel’s feathers, a soft sob stuttering out of him as he was bounced again.

“You’re okay, Dean,” Castiel said. He reached through their bond and brushed Dean’s soul with his grace to help soothe him. Dean’s fingers flexed in response, but he didn’t lift his face. Castiel figured that was a pretty good compromise and sat quietly, only speaking occasionally when it seemed like Dean was getting too upset again, until roughly eight minutes had gone by.

Knowing that it was best to start Dean off slowly at first and avoid straining his muscles, Castiel twitched his wings to loosen Dean’s grip and slowly turned around with a smile. “Good job, baby,” he praised, switching the bouncer off. Dean stretched his arms up with a whimper and Castiel lifted him up, hugging him close. “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, little one.”

“Don’t like,” Dean mumbled around his thumb. Castiel tugged his thumb free and substituted a pacifier, unsurprised when both of Dean’s arms promptly wound tightly around his neck.

“I know you don’t like it. I’m really proud of you for giving it another try just because I wanted you to. Now how about I rub your back, and then we have some pie?”

Dean lifted his head at that, tear-filled eyes a little brighter. “Pie?” he repeated. The word was slurred because of his pacifier, but Castiel could easily tell he was asking.

“Yup. Uncle Gabriel’s pie, to be exact. And he made a surprise for you last night, too. But I’m not gonna tell you what it is just yet.” He carried Dean over to the couch and helped the baby to lay down on his tummy. Dean turned his head so that he could watch as Castiel set his hands on Dean’s back and started to gently massage the muscles. He always loved the way that Dean inevitably melted under his fingers, because it meant that Dean trusted him in a way that couldn’t be put into words.

He rubbed until Dean’s wings lay limply against his back, a sure sign that most of the pain had been soothed away, before he paused to glance at Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes were shut. The pacifier had slipped out of his mouth and landed on the floor, but Dean was still smacking his lips like he was sucking something. A little amused, Castiel swept his right wing forward until his feathers were near Dean’s mouth, curious to see what would happen. He was gratified when Dean latched on immediately with a soft grumble, then settled.

This was only the second time that Dean had nursed from him. A little shiver went up his vessel’s spine, the only physical reaction to the way that Castiel’s grace rippled in pleasure at the sensation. He couldn’t help reaching out again to Dean’s soul, stroking it with tendrils of grace. Dean’s soul lit up in response, not unlike a kitten that wanted more attention. Castiel was more than eager to oblige, encompassing the beautiful soul with his grace and feeling their bond surge.

There was no real discernible difference to Dean’s soul yet. It would be some time before Dean began to produce grace of his own, even though he now had wings. Right now, to Castiel’s eyes and to the eyes of an angel who cared to look, Dean’s wings looked more like fragments of Castiel’s own grace that had attached themselves to Dean’s body in a physical way. He wasn’t sure Dean realized that, but then again that wasn’t really something the baby needed to contend himself with.

Castiel left off rubbing at Dean’s back to move on to his wings, gently running his fingers along the delicate joints. He could feel some discomfort from Dean at the touch, but since it didn’t slide over into true pain Castiel continued, wanting to make sure that Dean’s wings didn’t stiffen up. He wanted them to be flexible and strong, capable of carrying Dean great distances. 

Well, once Dean came around to the idea of flying anyway. Castiel was pretty sure that Dean’s dislike of flying would disappear once he was capable of doing so with his own wings, but that remained to be seen. He wondered if Dean would enjoy flying with him or Gabriel. Normally angels flew so quickly that it was impossible for the human mind to comprehend, but they were capable of slowing down their flight and Dean wasn’t really human anymore anyway. Perhaps that would be something to look into in the next couple of weeks.

He finished with Dean’s wings and sat back on his heels, smiling down at the baby. Dean had finished nursing – there was only so much grace that Castiel had to spare in the span of one day, and that was not a fact decided by Castiel, but by his grace itself – but was still sucking on the feathers. He looked so peaceful that Castiel hated to disturb him, but he had made a promise and he intended to keep it.

“Dean,” he said softly. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

“Mm,” Dean mumbled, not opening his eyes, though Castiel could tell he was a little more awake.

“I thought there was a hungry baby who wanted some pie, but I guess not.”

That was the magic word. Dean’s eyes sprang open and he worked his hands under him, pushing himself up quickly. “Pie?” he asked quickly, then blinked in surprise. He pulled Castiel’s feathers from his mouth. The look on his face was so priceless that Castiel couldn’t help laughing.

“You were nursing, Dean.”

“I was _what_?” Dean said, looking horrified.

Castiel sighed and pushed himself up, still smiling, to sit beside Dean on the couch. “As your parental angel, my body draws more grace from heaven now that I have you,” he said, petting Dean’s hair indulgently. “Before I was siphoning off the excess grace to give to you through bottles. But there’s another way for you to get it. It’s not commonly done, but I have heard of it happening before.”

“Through… nursing,” Dean said, like the word was dirty.

“Yes. That is commonly what it’s called. My wings are a manifestation of my grace, so you can nurse from them and receive grace directly.” Castiel shifted his wings, noticing how Dean’s eyes tracked the movement. “You seemed to find it comforting, and I enjoyed it as well.”

Dean stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. No nursing. Not ever.”

It was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue to say how disappointing he found that decision, but he refrained from speaking at the last minute. Dean was fragile, much as the baby would protest otherwise. If he thought that this was something Castiel wanted, he might force himself into doing it. And that would ruin the pleasure and comfort that both of them received from it. Instead, he smiled again at Dean.

“That’s your choice, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But if you ever decide that you want to nurse, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Dean said quickly. Too quickly.

Castiel just nodded. He had the feeling that, like everything else, this would be something Dean eventually changed his mind on. Dean just needed time to get used to the idea, and Castiel had ample patience to wait. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair one last time and stood up, saying, “How about some home-made ice cream to go along with that pie?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Really? Yes!”


	57. Chapter 57

“How about we go for a walk?”

Dean lifted his head, blinking in surprise. He’d been concentrating so hard on building a castle out of blocks that he hadn’t even heard Castiel come up behind him. Not that he really enjoyed playing with something so babyish, of course. It was just that the blocks made a really satisfying sound when they were stacked high and he got the chance to knock them down. Also, he liked that they were all uniform and so, when he had them stacked, they could look as organized as he wanted.

Plus, he didn’t feel as awful as he had when his wings were coming in – but he still got tired really easily, and sometimes he still got that uncomfortable hot feeling that probably meant his temperature was climbing. Playing with blocks was pretty easy and didn’t require much effort on Dean’s part. Or at least that was the excuse he was telling himself. 

Castiel smiled at him. “What are you building, baby?”

“Fort.”

“A fort?” Castiel crouched down to better examine the blocks. Dean had loads of them, but without glue or something to connect them, there was only so far he could go. So right now, the ‘fort’ was really just four walls of blocks that, on second thought, weren’t as square as they should’ve been. 

“For Sparks.”

“Sparks?”

A little embarrassed, he pointed to his kitten and mumbled, “Sparks.”

It had taken him a long time to think of just the right name. Part of that time had been spent waiting for Gabriel to change his mind and decide that the kitten didn’t belong to Dean after all, or that Dean would pick a stupid name so it was better for someone else to do it. After all, as Sam had frequently pointed out, he’d nicknamed the Impala ‘Baby’ and that was about the plainest nickname you could have according to Sam.

But when that didn’t happen – all Gabriel did was ask, very kindly, if he’d made a decision yet, then given him a hug when Dean said he hadn’t – he started to think of a name. He didn’t like anything of the obvious ones: Midnight, Soot, Ebony, Sapphire, etc… It had to be something _special_. And what he kept noticing was that the kitten looked a lot like his daddy, with her dark fur and bright blue eyes. He figured Gabriel had chosen her for just that reason.

It made him think of back when he and Castiel first met. Well, when they first met on the surface anyway. He didn’t like thinking about Hell. Even dwelling on that place and what had happened down there for even a few seconds made his chest and throat tighten and left him on edge for the rest of the day. 

No, he was thinking of when Castiel walked into the barn. At the time it had been terrifying because Dean and Bobby didn’t know what was coming and had no idea he was an angel, but now Dean just thought his daddy had looked _really_ cool with the lights flashing and all those sparks flying around him. And that’s what made him think of the name for his kitten. Sparks.

“I think that’s a great name, Dean.”

He chanced a look up at Castiel, half-expecting to see a mocking expression. But Castiel was still smiling, so Dean relaxed. “Thanks.”

“I know you’re having lots of fun building your fort,” Castiel went on, “but you haven’t been out of the house for a while. I thought it would be fun to go for a walk. Uncle Gabe said he’d come too, and even Balthazar stopped by to join us.”

“Okay,” Dean said, setting down the block he’d been holding. It was comforting to know that there would be other angels nearby, especially angels that were loyal to Castiel. “Can Sparks come?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not. Come on. Let’s get you changed and dressed.” Castiel scooped him up. Dean wound his legs around his daddy’s waist automatically, watching over his shoulder as Sparks immediately lifted her head to watch them go. She scrambled to her feet and ran after them when Castiel walked down the hallway. Dean giggled to himself, liking that she followed him.

Sparks stayed near as Castiel changed his wet diaper and then got him dressed in a onesie with jeans overtop of it. The onesie was purple with a picture of a black cat on it, just like Sparks. Dean pointed at it and grinned up as his daddy. Castiel grinned back and pushed a purple pacifier into his mouth, then picked him up again. He carried Dean out out onto the porch, where Balthazar and Gabriel were both waiting. Dean squirmed when he saw that Gabriel was leaning against the handle of the stroller.

“I walk,” he said around his pacifier. It really was nice out. The sun was shining, but there was enough of a breeze that it wasn’t too hot. Castiel was right; he hadn’t been outside for what felt like a long time, and, the last couple of times that he could remember, he’d been confined to a stroller. 

“You can walk if you want to, little one. Uncle Gabe is bringing the stroller in guess you get tired,” Castiel said, obligingly setting him down. He took Dean’s hand, though. Dean eyed the point of contact between them for a moment, debating the merits of fighting it. Somehow, it felt even more babyish than being carried did. But he decided to stay quiet for the time being, figuring it would be easier to slip free later on. If he whined too much now, Castiel would probably do what his mom used to do and hold on tighter.

“Are we ready?” Balthazar asked, sounding a little impatient.

“Yes, we are. Let’s go.” Castiel walked down the steps, Dean at his side, and set off across the grass. Dean glanced over his shoulder. He was pleased to find that not only were Gabriel and Balthazar following them, Sparks was too. The kitten was winding her way around Gabriel’s ankles, nearly causing Gabriel to fall flat on his face a couple of times. He had to bite his lip to hold in a giggle.

The low murmur of conversation behind them was comforting. After a minute or two, Castiel’s grip had slackened to the point where Dean was able to slide his hand free without Castiel really noticing. He picked up the pace a little, darting out in front so that the three angels fell behind. Sparks ran to catch up with him, nipping playfully at his fingers when he bent down to give her a pet.

She was a little hunter too, Dean realized when a butterfly flew by. Sparks immediately stopped paying attention to him and sat straight up, her ears pricked forward intently. She watched the butterfly with round eyes, slowly lowering herself to the ground so that she was less obvious. Her butt wiggled, tail lashing the air. When the butterfly made the mistake of flying too low, she pounced. For a moment Dean thought she’d been successful, but then the butterfly flew out from between her paws and into the air like nothing had happened. He couldn’t help laughing.

“Good try,” he said sympathetically, gently running a finger down her back. He knew how that felt. He couldn’t count how many times he and Sam had missed their targets while on hunts. Usually they managed to kill whatever they were hunting in the end, but there had been some close shaves.

Of course, what he and Sam were hunting was usually much more dangerous than butterflies.

There were more butterflies flying around and Sparks clearly wasn’t ready to give up yet, so Dean sat down on the ground to watch. He kept an eye out to make sure that Castiel, Gabriel and Balthazar had stopped too before turning his full attention on Sparks. She was nothing if not determined, stealthily stalking each and every butterfly that tried to come near Dean. 

The best attempt was when she leapt for a butterfly that dodged her attempts. Sparks landed on the ground and did almost a full somersault, landing on her paws with a dazed expression. The butterfly alighted briefly on her nose, flapped its wings a couple of times as though in triumph, and then took off. Sparks watched it go and didn’t even try to swat at it, and if Dean hadn’t known better he would’ve said the kitten was pouting. As it was, he was laughing too hard to even notice when Sparks sat up straight again.

She didn’t go after a butterfly, though. Dean stopped laughing and followed the direction she was looking in, but he couldn’t see anything worthy of her focus. Her ears were swiveling, which meant she had to be listening to something. He listened too, but all he could hear was the sound of the wind, the buzz of mosquitoes, and the voices of his angels talking quietly. 

Then he heard it. His skin prickled at the distant, but unmistakable, sound of a dog barking. It sounded like it was a long ways off, but coming closer. His breath caught in his chest when the barking turned to a howl, long and drawn out. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t sound anything like a hellhound. He told himself that there was no way a hellhound would be anywhere near here, because there were two angels and an archangel sitting five feet away and no hellhound was gonna be that suicidal.

All those thoughts ran through Dean’s head in less than two seconds, but did very little to calm him. The howling was sending chills down his spine, especially since the dog never actually came into sight. If he could see it, maybe he could convince himself that it was just a regular dog – because you couldn’t see hellhounds. You could hear them, but you couldn’t see them until they were ready to rip you to shreds.

Something touched his shoulder, coinciding with a particularly loud and close howl, and Dean flinched with a panicked cry. He slapped at whatever was behind him and scrambled away, immediately flashing back to that moment when the hellhound had come for him in Indiana. The smirk on Lilith’s face as she opened the door, the sound of Sam’s screams mixing with the hellhound’s triumphant baying, and the _pain_ …

He banged into something and Dean looked up, terrified, half-expecting to see a hellhound looming over him. Instead, it was Gabriel – the archangel Gabriel, eyes wide and hands spread out towards Dean. He burst into tears and threw his arms around Gabriel’s legs, clinging to him, burying his face so that he wouldn’t have to look.

“It’s gonna drag me back,” Dean cried, hardly able to force the words out through the panic. “Please, I can’t. Kill me first. I don’t wanna go back!”

Hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled him up. Dean fought, convinced that there was a hellhound right behind him, until he realized that Gabriel was picking him up, not pushing him away. He got his arms and legs around Gabriel’s neck and waist and clung desperately, squeezing his eyes shut. Gabriel’s arms and wings wrapped around Dean’s body, holding him securely. 

The howling of the hellhound finally died away, but all that meant was that it was preparing to strike. He was certain that, at any moment, he was going to feel the familiar claws sinking into his back, or at the very least there was going to be a battle of some kind as Gabriel fought off the hellhound (he would fight it off, wouldn’t he? They wouldn’t let him be taken?). He tensed, trembling, for several long moments. 

Gradually, he realized that the only thing he could feel was Gabriel’s hands on his back. One was pressed to his lower back, holding him in place, but the other was making big, slow circles against his shoulder blades. He wasn’t holding his sword, then. His wings were still wrapped around Dean, not widespread as Dean imagined they would be in the midst of a battle. He couldn’t hear the hellhound either, but Gabriel was speaking to him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. Daddy and I won’t let anything hurt you. It’s okay.”

It took a moment for the words to register, and longer still for the actual meaning behind them to sink in. Once they did, Dean gulped once for air – it felt like his throat was so tight, he could barely breathe – and started to cry.


	58. Chapter 58

It physically hurt to see Dean this upset and know that ultimately, it was because no one had bothered to interfere before Dean was dragged to hell. Castiel shifted his weight, watching as Gabriel continued to croon to Dean. The tone, if not the words, finally seemed to be getting through to Dean, and his screams quieted. He continued to cry though, and he clutched at Gabriel like he honestly thought that someone was going to drag him away. 

The fault was with Michael and Zachariah, of course. Now Castiel knew that their plan had always been for Dean to end up in hell so that the Righteous Man could take up a blade and draw blood, thereby breaking the first seal on the cage. They’d purposely delayed Castiel’s garrison from reaching Dean until that had happened. But that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty. Had he known, he could’ve stopped the hellhound and saved Dean from hell. Lucifer wouldn’t have been set free and the Apocalypse never would’ve happened.

He'd believed - mistakenly, he realized now - that Dean had understood he was never going back to hell; no demon would be foolish enough to try dragging a hatchling or nestling down to hell with them, not unless they wanted to draw the ire of countless garrisons. He cast his mind back in an effort to remember whether or not he'd ever talked to Dean about this and realized that he hadn't. Castiel scowled at himself for the oversight. 

He stepped closer, half-afraid that his presence would frighten Dean more. It made sense that Dean would go to Gabriel, since as an archangel Gabriel was more capable of protecting Dean than anyone else. And he couldn’t even bring himself to be jealous for it; he was, more than anything, deeply grateful that Gabriel had picked Dean up and was comforting him rather than turning Dean away.

Balthazar flew back into the clearing, landing next to Castiel, and said, "I took care of the dog. You were right, Gabriel. It wasn't a hellhound. I think it was just some mutt that got separated from its humans and wandered through the barriers you'd set up."

"What did you do with it?" Castiel asked.

"I sent it back to where it came from," said Balthazar, glancing at Dean. "But something tells me it didn't help."

"It helped very much. Thank you," Castiel said, meaning it. He didn't want to leave Dean right now, and if Balthazar hadn't been he would've had to in order to deal with the dog. Because the longer the dog howled, the more upset that Dean became - even though, to Castiel's more experienced ears, a normal dog sounded nothing like a hellhound. Hellhounds had a very deep bark, and their howl could ring high enough to destroy a human's ears. But he supposed that Dean would've only heard the hellhound for a short time, and so would not have learned the difference.

Very carefully, half-expecting Dean to throw Dean back into a panic attack, Castiel reached out and laid a hand on the baby's back. "Dean," he said, because he knew that Dean liked the sound of his voice. "Dean, you're safe here. There are no hellhounds. Nothing is going to hurt you. It's just me, you, Uncle Gabriel, Balthazar and Sparks. No hellhounds, no demons, and nothing that will ever take you away from me." His voice shook a little from the force of his conviction. He would rather die than have Dean be taken away from him now. 

Dean tensed under his touch, but actually lifted his head from where it had been buried in Gabriel's neck. One wet green eye peered out at Castiel. "D-Dad-dy?" Dean stuttered.

"I'm right here, baby."

With a sob, Dean launched himself at Castiel. Castiel caught him just in time, wrapping his arms and wings around Dean's body to keep him from falling. He pressed a hand to Dean's head as the baby started to cry all over again, meeting Gabriel's eyes. Gabriel looked as worried as Castiel felt. Castiel cuddled the baby closer, wishing that there was some way he could express all of the protective instincts surging inside of him right now. If Dean were more advanced and had more grace, or if he could connect directly with Dean's soul - but the former was useless to wish for and the latter would require Dean to be a lot calmer than he was right now.

"Shh, Dean. It's alright. You're safe," Castiel repeated uselessly, bouncing the baby gently. "There's no hellhound, and even if there was, we would never let it hurt you or take you away." He tried to reach out to Dean's soul with his grace regardless, but as he'd thought Dean was too upset to respond to the caress.

Gabriel nodded, summoning his sword with a twist of his fingers. "Your daddy's right, kiddo. Here, look at this." He waited until Dean peeked at him, then held his sword up. "You know what this is. It's my sword. Anything that comes anywhere near you or Sam is gonna get impaled. I wouldn't let anything happen to you two, okay? I'm an archangel. I can protect you against pretty much anything. And your daddy is a very strong and reckless angel. No stupid hellhound is going to come sniffing around while we're here."

"I-I could h-hear it," Dean whispered, glancing around the clearing fearfully.

"You heard a dog," Balthazar corrected. He held up a hand, palm up and fingers splayed out. An image formed above his hand of a large Great Dane. "I sent it back to where it belongs, but even if it had come sniffing around it wouldn't have hurt you. And it certainly wouldn't have dragged you back to hell."

Dean flinched at the word, fingers turning white from where he was clutching at Castiel's shirt. "I c-can't -"

"You are never going back to hell," Castiel said firmly. He held Dean with just one hand and his wings, using his other hand to tip Dean's chin up so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "Understand me when I say this, Dean. You're a hatchling now. Your soul is now mixed with grace and that can't be changed. You've always shone brightly, but now you can't be sullied. You can't become a demon no matter what. And even if you could, it would be pointless for any demon to try and take you because I would fight endlessly to get you back."

"So would I," Gabriel said quietly.

"And I," Balthazar said, surprising all of them - even himself, by the look on his face. Castiel spared a smile for both of them but quickly turned his attention back to Dean.

"It's not worth their while no matter whose hit list you're on," he continued, meeting Dean's gaze again. Dean's expression was blank aside from the tears that continued to spill down his cheeks. "And even if you were to die tomorrow from something else, you would ascend to heaven and I would be right there with you. Unless you choose to fall, you will never be consigned to hell. I promise you that, sweetheart. You never have to see that place again outside of your nightmares."

Dean stared at him, searching Castiel's face. He must've found whatever he was looking for, because his face crumbled again and he started to cry. But this time he wasn't crying because he was afraid; these were tears of relief. Castiel hugged him and kissed the top of his head, inwardly cursing himself for never having said those words to Dean earlier on. Especially when he knew that Dean was still having nightmares about hell. It had just never occurred to him that Dean would still think that he could end up back there.

“Did you want to go back to the cabin?” Gabriel asked in an undertone.

Castiel considered the question briefly, then shook his head. “No. I don’t want this to ruin our walk. Let’s move to the lake. Dean likes the water.”

As much as he wanted their nest to be a safe place for Dean, he didn’t want Dean to spend all of his time cooped up there. That wasn’t healthy. And he definitely didn’t want Dean to be scared of going outside. He pondered the matter as they walked, Gabriel pushing the shoulder and Balthazar carrying Sparks. Dean was in such a vulnerable state of mind right now that he couldn’t handle the stress that he normally did. They would have to be more proactive about keeping dogs or anything else that reminded Dean of hell away.

It did make Castiel wonder, though. He was certain that this wasn’t the first dog that Dean had run into since he’d been rescued from hell. So how had Dean handled his fear before? Especially since he wouldn’t have wanted Sam to know. Dean had gone to great lengths to try and convince Sam and Bobby that he was perfectly fine once he was topside, and he certainly hadn’t admitted this fear to Castiel, which meant that it was something he would have struggled through alone.

Knowing him, he’d probably turned to alcohol. Castiel scowled at the thought, clutching the baby a little closer. He hadn’t understood what alcohol was and what it could do when he first encountered the Winchesters, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize what kind of effect it had on humans. Dean in particular had been prone to using alcohol to self-medicate, especially in the later months of the Apocalypse as Sam fell prey to his demon blood addiction. The mental picture of Dean encountering a dog or something else that reminded him of hell and then getting drunk to cope was all too easy to imagine.

Castiel should have been paying more attention. He could admit that to himself now. He’d been blinded by what he’d been told was right, and then he'd been caught up in worrying about the Apocalypse, and somewhere along the line Dean had pretty much self-destructed. Thank God that Dean had held himself together long enough for Castiel to step in. He would never have forgiven himself if Dean had drunk himself to death or been killed on a hunt, especially knowing what they would have missed out on.

They reached the edge of the lake. Balthazar set Sparks on the ground and watched in amusement as she immediately raced over to the water’s edge, seemingly fascinated by the way that the waves were rolling in. Castiel opted to sit down a foot or so away from where the waves reached, settling Dean in his lap. Dean panicked for a moment, obviously thinking that Castiel was trying to pull away.

“No, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel soothed. “Look, we came back to the lake. You remember when you swam that time? And Uncle Gabriel helped you to fly a kite?” Too late he remembered that the kite flying had been interrupted by the news that Bobby had been stabbed. He hoped that Dean didn’t associate the two events too closely.

Dean turned his head a little to look at the water, but he still clung to Castiel and Castiel didn’t try to push him to move before he was ready. He noticed that Dean was clicking his tongue against the room of his mouth again, but he was holding onto Castiel with both hands and didn’t have a hand free to suck his thumb. Castiel could’ve given him a pacifier, but, on a hunch, he shifted his wings a little closer to Dean’s mouth. 

It took a little while. Castiel amused himself by watching Sparks and Gabriel, who was trying to coax the kitten into stepping into the water. When Sparks refused to come closer, Gabriel started spraying water at her. Sparks dodged every shot of water gracefully, then – when the waves had rolled back out – turned and darted towards Gabriel’s feet. He stepped backwards automatically, slipped on the soft, wet sand, and fell over into the water. Castiel and Balthazar cracked up as he surfaced, sputtering.

“I hate you all,” Gabriel said, not without good humor, as Sparks strutted back to Balthazar, purring.

“You have only yourself to blame for that,” Balthazar said, still laughing.

And it was then that Castiel felt it, a gentle tugging on his wing. He flicked his eyes to Dean just in time to see Dean’s mouth closing around his feathers. The baby had his eyes shut, so Castiel couldn’t be sure that he was even aware of what he was doing. But what he did know was that Dean was nursing again, and that opened their bond further so that he could surround Dean’s still shivering, upset soul in grace to comfort him, and really that was all Castiel cared about.


	59. Chapter 59

Something was playing music. It took Dean an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was his phone, and that the music playing was Sam’s ringtone. He lurched upright and slid off the couch, hurrying over to the shelf where Castiel had placed his phone. It wasn’t like Dean had any reason to carry it around on him now, since the only people who ever called were Sam or Bobby – and even then, he didn’t speak to either one of them on a regular basis. 

He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Dean,” Sam said. “Were you sleeping?”

Dean rubbed a hand across his face. He would _never_ admit to his brother that he had just finished another ten minutes in the stupid bouncer. Just like he had the last three times, once the session was done Castiel had patiently rubbed his back, shoulders, neck and wings until Dean was a pile of goo on the couch. The massage felt so good that it usually made Dean fall asleep, and Castiel always left him to sleep for an hour after. Castiel called it his mid-morning nap, which was something else Dean would never say out loud.

“I passed out watching television. Had a late night,” he said instead, rolling his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Bobby called me. He wanted to know if we were interested in going to a party.”

“A party?” Dean repeated, baffled.

“Apparently it’s been six whole months since the Apocalypse was averted,” Sam said, voice full of amusement. “Half a year, man, and the world hasn’t gone to shit. He considers that worth a celebration.”

“… Was he drunk when he called you?”

Sam laughed. “Probably. I think he was taking it as a chance to talk to the two of us into going to visit. Without him having to be stabbed first, I mean. Also, coincidentally this ‘celebration’ falls on the same weekend as Thanksgiving, so it all works out.”

Thanksgiving. Dean blinked a little, shocked. Time had slipped away from him; he honestly hadn’t realized that he’d been with Castiel for that long. He turned automatically to look out the window, but the sun was still shining and it was warm enough outside to wear shorts and a t-shirt. For the first time, he wondered if their cabin was set in a more tropical climate. He’d assumed – apparently incorrectly – that they were still somewhere in the northern U.S.

“When is that?” he asked finally.

“This Thursday. Tomorrow, actually.” Sam’s voice was full of quiet amusement. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you guys don’t have plans.”

“No. Not as far as I know. I didn’t ask. But no.” Dean shook his head as though Sam could see him. “I’m not even sure Da – Cas would know what Thanksgiving is.” His face felt hot and he hoped that Sam wouldn’t catch his slip.

“Then you want to come? Bobby wants us to stay for the weekend. He said something about football.”

There wasn’t really a way that Dean could say no, was there? “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. 

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sam hung up before Dean could say another word, which was just as well. He felt frozen in place. It was one thing to spend a couple of hours around his brother and Bobby. But somehow, Dean had just committed himself to four whole days. Four days of pretending that he was still the same person he used to be. Four days of pretending that he didn’t use a diaper regularly. Four days of pretending that he didn’t think of Castiel as ‘Daddy’.

“Dean-o?” Gabriel poked his head in the room. “I heard you talking to Sam. What’s up?”

“I have to call him back and cancel,” Dean blurted out, fumbling with his phone. They’d never make it. He couldn’t even having a conversation with Sam without almost calling Castiel ‘Daddy’. Last time they’d been at Bobby’s, Dean had come within seconds of pissing himself. He couldn’t do it.

“Whoa. Cancel what?” Gabriel darted across the room, taking the phone from Dean’s hands. Dean tried to grab it back, but Gabriel’s wings easily held him back. 

“Bobby wants us to come for Thanksgiving,” he snarled, grabbing for the phone. 

“And there’s a problem with that?”

Dean stared at Gabriel like he’d lost his mind. “Are you kidding me? Really?”

Gabriel raised a single eyebrow. “Nope. I don’t see what the problem is.” He tossed the phone in the air. It vanished before it hit the ground. 

“Look at me!”

“I’m looking,” Gabriel said, making a show of looking him up and down. “But I don’t see anything.”

“I can’t pretend for four whole days,” Dean hissed. “I almost called Cas ‘Daddy’ during a two minute conversation!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be pretending.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Dean said flatly. He stormed out of the room, out onto the porch. He would’ve never known that it was autumn if it hadn’t been for Sam’s phone call. The air was still warm, with none of the crisp chill he’d associated with the changing seasons. Wherever they were, it probably wouldn’t snow.

He threw himself down onto the porch swing and stared across the yard. Sparks crept up the stairs and leapt up into his lap. He stroked her absently, unsurprised when the door opened and Castiel came out. Without a word, Dean’s daddy sat down on the swing beside him. Dean didn’t look at him. He stared out across the yard, blinking back the hotness in his eyes. 

“I don’t want them to know,” he said finally. His voice quivered a little, and that right there was bad enough. He was so _emotional_ now. It was disgusting.

Castiel sighed. “I told you once that if you didn’t want to wear diapers around them, you didn’t have to,” he said. “I won’t go back on my word.”

Dean thought about that for approximately a second. Tempting though the offer was, he knew that was a road to disaster. He didn’t even notice when he had to pee now. His body just did it automatically. He hadn’t said anything to Castiel, but there’d even been a couple of times when he’d barely realized that he had to shit before it happened – he’d only _just_ made it to the toilet both times. The only thing worse than wearing a diaper would be if he wet himself or worse.

“We could not go,” he said instead.

“That’s your choice, Dean. If you want me to call Sam back and make an excuse, I will.”

“But Sam wants to see me,” Dean mumbled. His earlier panic was dissipating at the thought of making Sam unhappy; he hated the thought of disappointing his brother, especially since Sam had been so anxious to get away from him back at the beginning of the summer. Besides, realistically speaking, he was going to have to see and spend time with Sam at some point. He couldn’t avoid his brother for the next couple of years or however long this turned out to take.

“It’s up to you.” Castiel wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “If you decide you want to go, we can be as discreet as possible.” He didn’t say, though Dean certainly heard the implication, that how discreet they could be would largely depend on Dean. 

“How?” Dean asked.

“Well, we can room together. I don’t think Bobby or Sam would mind. It would be easy for me to change the room so that it still looks the same to their eyes, but it has everything you’d need.”

Dean considered that, still petting Sparks. She was purring, body vibrating under his fingertips. He still didn’t like it. He’d have to second-guess every word he said and watch himself carefully around the two angels: they’d gotten him too used to casual affection, and that just wasn’t done in the Winchester family. He’d have to be on guard for literally every second of the day that they weren’t behind closed doors. It would be really hard. 

But the alternative was staying home, which meant that Sam would be disappointed. So would Bobby. And there was a small part of Dean that did want to see them. He tried to imagine putting this off until he was even deeper down the rabbit hole and realized that was probably a stupid idea. At least right now, he still had come control over everything. With the way things were going, he didn’t know how much longer that would be the case.

“Can Sparks come?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“And Uncle Gabe?” Dean turned wide, worried eyes on his daddy. For some reason he didn’t want to think about, he felt like he needed both Castiel and Gabriel there to make this work.

Castiel smiled. “I’ll ask him, but I’m sure that nothing could keep him away.” He brushed a strand of hair out of Dean’s face. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

Dean flushed and looked away, curling into him with a little grumble. “You gotta stop calling me that. I don’t want Sam or Bobby hearing it, got it?”

“I’ll remember,” Castiel promised, sounding amused. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

The problem with leaving tomorrow morning meant that Dean spent a largely sleepless night in his bed, tossing and turning as his brain gleefully conjured up the worst case scenarios. He was both grouchy and tired by the time Castiel came to wake him in the morning, submitting to a diaper change in sulky silence. Castiel didn’t seem to notice, too involved in setting out some clothes for Dean to wear – normal jeans with a zip and button instead of an elastic waist, Dean noted, and a plain black shirt with a red-and-black plaid shirt to wear on top.

It was the first time Dean would step outside since his humiliating breakdown two days ago. They hadn’t stayed at the lake for more than an hour, and he remembered walking back to the cabin in between Castiel and Gabriel, both angels holding one of his hands. The memory was mortifying, made even worse by the fact that he’d never felt safer in his life and he was pretty sure that both of them knew it.

Naturally, he’d refused to discuss it any further once they got back to the cabin in spite of Castiel’s best efforts. As far as Dean was concerned, he was _fine_ and he didn’t need to talk about anything. Today, he frowned at Castiel’s worried hovering and took a step out onto the porch without hesitation. He started to sweat immediately in his warmer clothing, but didn’t complain. 

“Ready?” Gabriel asked. He was leaning against a suitcase. Sparks was curled up on top. Dean glanced at the suitcase, curious in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure what Gabriel would’ve felt the need to pack, considering that he and Castiel could mojo up whatever they wanted whenever they wanted.

“We’re ready,” Castiel said, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean fought the urge to lean into it, instead forcing himself to stand straight. He missed the worried look that the two angels exchanged over his head. 

Gabriel did the honors with a snap of his fingers. The world shifted sideways, colors rushing past in a blur too quick for Dean to interpret. He staggered when it stopped, even though technically he hadn’t moved, and felt Castiel’s hand tighten to keep him on his feet. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

Dean blinked, turning to face the house. He was just in time to see Sam launching himself off the porch. It was disorienting to see Sam again; he’d become so used to his whole life revolving around Castiel, and to some extent Gabriel, that it was weird to see other people. Sam didn’t have that problem. He covered the distance between him and Dean in seconds, yanking Dean into a rough hug.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, wincing. Though his fever was pretty much gone, his back was still plenty tender. Sometimes Sam didn’t know his own strength.

“Dude, you have wings!” Sam blurted out, his eyes the size of saucers as he pulled away to hold Dean at arm's length. 

“Um… yeah.” Dean fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably. He was still very aware of just how puny his wings were. They looked like they were meant for a child. And yeah, he knew that made sense considering the whole ‘baby angel’ thing but he didn’t want Sam putting two and two together either. He also wasn’t sure how he would react if Sam mocked them, considering what a bitch it had been to get wings in the first place.

Surprisingly, Sam just smiled. “I like them. It’s a good color.”

“You do?” Dean said. His surprise gave way quickly to pleasure and he smiled back, suddenly feeling like maybe this weekend wouldn’t go so terribly after all. “Thanks, Sammy.”


	60. Chapter 60

Castiel hung back as the two brothers greeted each other, partly because he didn't want to interfere and partly because he was genuinely curious to see what would happen. He was pleased when Sam complimented Dean's wings; it was common knowledge that Dean was still uncomfortable with how his wings looked, and he was certain that Sam's approval would go a long way towards changing Dean's attitude. 

"You look good," Sam said, completing his scan of Dean's body and looking his brother in the face. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'd almost forgotten what your eyes looked like without giant bags weighing them down."

Dean scowled. "Seems like they migrated to your face instead," he said, punching Sam in the arm. Sam winced a little, and Castiel suddenly realized that it had been a while since Dean had spent any time around humans. Dean's strength, along with his eyesight and senses of smell and taste, had all increased dramatically from what he would have been capable of before. It was a side effect of all the grace that Dean had been given. But he'd never thought to communicate that to Dean. Judging from the look on Sam's face, he needed to.

"University is tough work, okay. Sometimes two days will go by before I get the chance to sleep," Sam said, but instead of sounding distressed, he actually sounded a little proud. Castiel glanced at Gabriel, wondering if this was normal, but Gabriel just rolled his eyes in response.

"Dean!" another voice cried, this one distinctly female. A woman with short, dark hair hurried down the steps and rushed over to Dean. "Hey kiddo! Long time no see!"

"Hey Jody," Dean said with a grin, embracing her back. "You keeping that old man in shape?"

"I ain't old!" Bobby yelled from the porch.

"Call it a work in progress," Jody said, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. "It's so nice to see you again."

"Yeah, you missed our visit last time," said Dean.

Jody's smile immediately vanished and her eyes took on a dark look. "Last time," she practically hissed. "You mean when my husband got stabbed and no one bothered to call me?"

"Wait, your husband?" Sam exclaimed.

Anger wrangled with pride, and finally Jody sighed and lifted her hand to show off the plain gold ring on her finger. "Before you say anything, it was a very small ceremony. We didn't invite anyone. Call it a spur of the moment decision. I told Bobby he should tell you boys, but he wanted you to find out in person."

"Wow," Dean said, exchanging a look with Sam. Castiel prodded at their bond, curious, but all he felt from Dean was happiness mixed with a little sadness at being left out. Mostly the former, though, and Dean didn't hesitate to step forward and yank Jody into another hug while he congratulated her on making an honest man out of Bobby. And when Dean let go, it was Sam's turn for a hug so exuberant that he lifted Jody right off her feet.

"Thanks boys," Jody said. She stuck a finger in their faces. "But don't think I forgot what we were talking about. Next time anything happens, I better be the first person on your list. Got it?"

"We got it," Sam said quickly. "Dean can send an angel to pick you up if you're not around."

As though reminded of the fact that Castiel and Gabriel were there, Jody turned her attention to them for the first time. Castiel smiled at her. He'd never met Jody before, but Dean had mentioned her once or twice. Dean thought very highly of her, so Castiel held out his hand - Sam had once spent a very long afternoon explaining the concept of a handshake and how humans did it as a greeting. It was still something of a foreign concept to Castiel, but he wanted to make a good impression on Jody - and gently shook Jody's hand when she took it.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Jody said. "Bobby's told me a lot about you. You're Castiel, right?"

"I am. And this is my brother, Gabriel."

"Yo," Gabriel said, not offering his hand. 

Jody stared at him. "Gabriel. Didn't you once kill Dean over a hundred times?"

"He's paid me back in pie," Dean said hastily. "Seriously, he makes the best pecan pie you've ever tasted."

"Really. Then you won't mind helping me in the kitchen," Jody said. "I was just about to start making dessert. Pie isn't really my thing, so I could use someone who is a master at it. I know I won't get much help from these two." She smirked at Sam.

"Sure," Gabriel said, shrugging. "Why not?" He snapped his fingers and their luggage disappeared as he followed Jody back to the house. Bobby nodded at him warily, keeping his distance.

"Wow," Sam said. "You've tamed Gabriel."

"I wouldn't call him tame," Castiel said wryly. That was actually the last word he would use to describe his brother. The only reason that Gabriel had agreed to come with them was because Dean had looked so panicked at the mere suggestion that Gabriel might not, and Gabriel didn't have it in him to deny Dean anything. And he was positive that the only reason Gabriel had gone with Jody was because Dean loved pie so much and would've been crushed if their meal hadn't been topped off by the dessert.

"Noted. Good to see you, too." Sam clapped him on the shoulder. Then he spotted the small, dark head peeking out of a pocket of Castiel's jacket and froze in surprise. He squeaked when Sparks jumped out, jerking backwards. Dean started to laugh.

"It's just a kitten, Sammy. Relax." He scooped Sparks up, letting the kitten nuzzle up against his cheek. Sparks immediately began to purr.

"You have a kitten? I thought you hated pets," Sam said.

Dean's smile tightened. "I never hated pets. Dad just didn't think it was practical, that's all. You were so dead set on having a puppy, and knowing that I wanted one too would've just made things worse. Seemed easier to pretend I didn't."

"If you wanted a puppy, why do you have a cat then?"

Now Dean's smile vanished altogether. He actually looked a little sick, probably remembering his last encounter with a dog. Castiel decided it was time to speak up. "The kitten was a gift from Gabriel, Sam," he explained, taking a step closer to Dean. Unseen by Sam or any other human, he swept out his right wing and wrapped it around Dean's shoulders. Dean was tense, but the pressure of Castiel's wing helped him to relax.

"Oh. That was nice of him. I guess a cat's okay." Sam looked at the kitten doubtfully. "Puppies are way better, though."

"Speak for yourself," Dean said, managing to sound normal. "Where are we staying? I want to show Sparks the room so she'll know."

"Bobby put you up in your normal room. I'm right next door. Cas..."

"You know I don't need sleep. So it's fine for my things to be put into Dean's room. Gabriel's as well," Castiel said. "I don't imagine Gabriel will spend the night here, anyway."

Sam shrugged. "Suit yourself. C'mon."

The two brothers headed across the yard with Castiel trailing behind. Bobby had patiently waited on the porch all this time. Now, he stepped forward and pulled Dean into a rough hug, mindful of Sparks. Dean hugged him back tightly. He gestured to Sparks with a sheepish smile when he and Bobby broke the hug. Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head, but jerked his thumb at the door. Dean grinned and walked into the house, quickly followed by Sam. Castiel paused when Bobby held up a hand to stop him.

"Hang on a sec," Bobby said. He waited, tilting his head. Realizing that he didn't want Sam or Dean to hear their conversation, Castiel surrounded the two of them in a bubble of silence so that no one would be able to overhear except for Gabriel. 

"No one can hear us. You may speak freely."

“Handy trick,” Bobby said. “I just wanted to see how things were going with Dean. I didn’t get the chance to ask you last time you were here.”

“Things are going well. Dean still has a ways to go before the process will be complete, but his body has taken to the grace with ease,” Castiel said. He didn’t mind sharing information with Bobby, partially because he knew Dean would be okay with it (to some extent, anyway) and partially because Bobby had played a vital role in the brother’s lives when they were children. Without Bobby, Castiel cringed to think of where the Winchesters would’ve ended up. Certainly, Dean would not have been as receptive to being as a hatchling as he was.

“That’s great, but I figured that was the case since he’s still alive. I meant, how’s he doing up here?” Bobby tapped the side of his head. He saw Castiel’s frown and held up a hand to forestall any objections. “I know you’re about to tell me that Dean wouldn’t want me to know. But I worry about the both of those knuckleheads. They’ve pushed themselves too much for too long. Sometimes it was all I could do to get the two of ‘em to take a break for a night instead of jumping back into the car and going after another hunt. I still worry about Sam, but tell me that Dean, at least, is doing okay.”

Castiel weighed his options and made a choice. “Dean is doing just fine, Bobby. Each step in the process is new to him, and sometimes he has difficulty with what the natural progression of things requires of him, but I am with him every step of the way. I care for him very much. I won’t allow him to come to any harm; you have my word on that.”

Bobby relaxed. “That’s good to hear. And he likes it?”

“There are some parts he likes less than others,” Castiel said with a smile. Dean had been very glad to leave behind the bouncer. “But overall, I would say that yes, he does. It’s an opportunity for him to have the childhood that he didn’t get the first time, as I’m sure you know.”

“I had more arguments with John over that very topic than you can imagine,” Bobby said, snorting. “I was forever telling him that kids needed to be kids. I’m sure he’d roll over in his grave if he knew that this was happening.” The thought apparently brought him enjoyment, judging from his smirk. 

“Dean hasn’t discussed his parents with me,” Castiel admitted. “Sometimes he’ll talk about hell, but even those conversations are brief.” And mostly consisted of Dean sobbing in outright terror, but Bobby didn’t need to know that. “I haven’t deliberately tried to talk to him about them because I know it’s sensitive and I dislike upsetting him. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Avoid the topic entirely,” Bobby said.

“But they are wounds on Dean’s soul.” And the topic needed to be discussed before Dean went to heaven, because he would inevitably want to see his parents. As it stood, Castiel didn’t think that meeting would go well.

“I get that. If Dean wants to talk about it, he will. You’ve got a good thing going with him, Cas. I’m really happy that you took him under your wing as a nestling.”

“Hatchling.”

“What?”

“Dean is a hatchling,” Castiel said, deciding to leave behind the topic of Dean’s family. He could figure out how to talk to Dean later. For the moment he watched Bobby carefully, certain that Bobby would understand what he didn’t want to come right out and say.

Bobby’s eyes widened a little, proving that he did. “I see,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin with his thumb. “On the one hand, I’m not surprised at all. Dean always did need to learn to let go. On the other hand, I’m shocked that he was willing to accept it. I don’t know much about it, of course, but I’ve heard that hatchlings are… more involved than nestlings.”

“They are,” Castiel confirmed. “Sam, on the other hand, will be a nestling.”

Bobby looked at him sharply. “You’re pulling Sam into this too?”

“Not yet, and it won't be. I want to keep my focus on Dean. But Gabriel has plans to approach him once Sam graduates. Sam doesn’t know, so please don’t pass that information along to him.”

“ I won’t. Huh. Sam too…” Bobby smiled to himself and chuckled suddenly. “I hope Gabriel knows what he’s getting into.”

Castiel smiled as well. “He doesn’t, but he’ll learn quickly. He won’t have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter for a while, as with this update this has fallen to the bottom of my waiting list. I ask for your patience while I concentrate on other stories.


	61. Chapter 61

Being at Bobby’s again was a little surreal, but Dean found he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Sam was so obviously happy to see him that Dean couldn’t help preening a little, enjoying the way that Sam kept looking over at him and grinning as they watched television together. He could tell that Sam was burning with questions though, and eventually Dean gave in to the inevitable. 

“What is it you wanna know, Sammy?” he asked, grabbing the remote and muting the television. He tried to ignore Sam’s astonished expression. It was just a football game. At one time Dean had tried to keep up with sports, but they’d never interested him as much as he pretended that they did. And neither Castiel nor Gabriel seemed interested in human sports, so there was no point in trying to keep up the pretense. Dean hadn’t watched a football game since Sam had left for college.

“Who are you and where is my brother?” Sam said. He was grinning, so it was supposed to be a joke, but Dean couldn’t contain the flicker of unease. He hoped that Sam never found out just how much Dean had changed.

“It’s still me. Bird wings and all,” Dean said, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness. His feathers fluffed up, immediately drawing Sam’s attention.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“Like a bitch,” Dean admitted. Those were days he didn’t like thinking about. That bone-deep pain that seemed to echo through his body with every breath… the longing for his daddy coupled with the fear that either Castiel might not come, or that he might not be able to come back… the frustration on Gabriel’s face because he couldn’t help. All culminating in a couple of days that Dean had blocked from his memory, because they were too painful to think about. 

Sam frowned at that, but didn’t push. “Do you like it, Dean? I mean really. Are you happy?”

“Yes.” Dean didn’t even need to think about the question. A few months ago he probably would’ve said no, humiliated by the things he wanted and that Castiel insisted he needed, but it was true now. His happy place wasn’t riding down the highway in the Impala with Sam by his side. It was curled up in Castiel’s wings and arms with Gabriel snuggled up against them both.

A fact which Sam would never, _ever_ know because even just thinking it made Dean want to die of embarrassment.

“That’s good. I mean really good, Dean. I have to admit for a while there, I wondered if you’d join me at college.”

“At Stanford?” Dean said, astonished. “I’m not smart enough for that.”

And there was Sam’s infamous bitchface. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true. You’re plenty smart. You could’ve gotten your GED and gone to college no problem.”

“That scene isn’t for me,” Dean told him, instead of saying what he was really thinking, which was that Sam was dreaming if he thought that Dean could’ve succeeded in college. Scratch that: Sam was dreaming if he thought Dean could’ve gotten into college, period. His marks in school had never been what Sam’s were: it was Sam who loved books, who loved learning. Whereas for Dean, school was something that he had to suffer through. 

Besides, what would he even do with more school? Get a desk job? Dean couldn’t help remembering that fake world Zachariah had cooked up. The one where he and Sam weren’t brothers, but Dean was some vegetable-eating, gym-going health nut whose only ambition in life was to crawl ever higher up the corporate ladder so that he could spend even more time working. No friends, no family, just an endless, soulless existence where the only bit of fun to be found was the rare cheeseburger.

Dean shuddered. No. God no. He would never be suited to that life. Just the memory of it made his skin crawl. He would never be cut out for a 9 to 5 life. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t sought Lisa out after everything was all said and done. All of the cool jobs, like being a firefighter, were things that Dean wasn’t smart enough to do, and he wasn’t interested in wasting his life away working as a bartender or convenience store clerk.

“You don’t know that,” Sam insisted. “You might have found something you love.”

“Like you and law?” Dean said skeptically.

For a split second Sam looked a little weird, but then he smiled. “Yeah, like me and law. I can’t wait to graduate. I know I won’t have the same chances at getting into a good school as I did before, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

Sam kept talking, but Dean wasn’t really listening. He’d heard this all before. Sam was the kind of kid who had a five year plan that, at one point, Dean had heard so often that he could’ve recited it in his sleep. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that Sam was going to be extremely successful. Sam would have it all: he’d become lawyer, be a rock star with some firm, fall in love, crank out a couple of kids. The American dream.

He’d leave Dean behind. It wasn’t the first time Dean had thought it, and it wouldn’t be the last. He could see it coming from a mile away. The process had already started now that Sam had returned to university, where he’d always wanted to be. Pretty soon Dean would be nothing more than the loser brother Sam never talked to – or worse, depending on what kind of upper class crowd Sam fell in with, a freak of nature.

That hurt. It hurt a lot. Dean swallowed hard, looking back at the television instead of at Sam. This whole nestling/hatchling thing – he didn’t know why, but he wanted Sam to be proud of him for doing it. Which was stupid. Just like he always did, Dean had taken the easy way out. He spent his days being coddled by Castiel and Gabriel instead of working. That was nothing to be proud of.

“Dean?” Like he’d been summoned by Dean’s thoughts alone – and who knew, he probably had been – Castiel appeared at the door of the living room. Castiel looked around the room as though expecting to find something wrong. He frowned when he saw only the two brothers.

“Hey Cas,” Sam said easily. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind if I borrow Dean for a moment, Sam?” Castiel said, already beckoning to Dean.

“Not at all. Go ahead, dude. I’m gonna finish watching the game.” Sam grabbed the remote and turned the television back up. Dean shook his head at his brother in disbelief – Sam used to hate football, but apparently university had changed his ways – and got up. He followed Castiel out of the room and upstairs into the small bedroom that had been set aside for their use.

It would’ve been cramped for two people, if one of those people weren’t an angel. Castiel kind of shifted and rolled his wings, and before Dean’s very eyes the room changed and expanded. Gone was the shitty old roll-out couch. In its place was a bed that looked very similar to the one Dean slept in at home. There was also – Dean flushed – a changing table and a rocking chair.

“Don’t worry,” Castiel said. “If Sam, Bobby or Jody looks in, they will still see the same room as before. You, Gabriel and I are the only ones who can see the difference.”

That made Dean’s heart pound a fraction slower, though it was still humiliating. “Is this all you wanted me to see?” he asked, deliberately not looking at the changing table.

“No. This room is soundproof, so we can speak freely here. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Little one,” Castiel said, voice softening, and damnit. The nickname combined with that soft, concerned tone immediately made tears well up in Dean’s eyes. He tried to blink them back, but it was too late. Castiel had already seen. In less than a second Dean was being pulled into two warm arms. Wings wrapped securely around him, cradling his body.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Castiel coaxed. “Daddy can’t fix it unless he knows what’s wrong.”

“It’s not something you can fix,” Dean said, hating how quivery his voice sounded. He wanted to bury his head in Castiel’s shoulder and bawl until this cold, splintery feeling of loss left him alone. But he couldn’t. He had to be big so long as they were in Bobby’s house.

“You don’t know that. Come on, sweetheart. Tell me.” Castiel’s eyes were so big and blue and worried. Dean resisted for maybe another ten seconds before he broke. 

“Sammy’s gonna leave me,” he burst out with a sob. He started to cry, giving in to the urge to hide his face against Castiel’s collarbone. It was embarrassing how much better it felt to tell Castiel what he was worried about. Gone were the days where he suffered through things in stoic silence, apparently. But then again, being able to say it and trust that he wouldn’t be mocked or shoved away was probably a worthy tradeoff.

“What?” Castiel said, confused and surprised. He backed up a few steps, pulling Dean along, until he could sit down in the rocking chair. He drew Dean down into his lap. Dean curled up, feeling terribly small, all plans to be as big as he could dashed to pieces around him.

“Sammy’s gonna be a lawyer,” Dean said through sobs. “He’s gonna get married and be a contributin’ m’mber of society and ’m just a loser he won’t wanna talk to!”

“Dean,” Castiel said, so sternly that Dean winced. “You are _not_ a loser. I don’t ever want to hear you say those things about yourself, do you understand?”

“But Daddy –”

“And I wouldn’t be so quick to think that Sam is going to be a lawyer,” Castiel added, cutting him off. He started to rock the chair with his foot. 

Startled, Dean’s head popped up. “W-what?”

Castiel smiled tenderly at him. “Gabriel!” he called out. “Would you come here for a moment, please?”

Gabriel appeared before Castiel had even finished speaking. There was a smile on his face, which vanished as soon as he caught of Castiel and Dean. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on here?” He moved quickly over to the rocking chair and reached out to place a hand on Dean’s hair. Dean sniffed, slipping his thumb into his mouth.

“Dean is under the impression that Sam is going to go to law school after he graduates,” Castiel said, not once pausing the rocking of the chair. “He thinks that Sam isn’t going to be interested in talking to him anymore once he becomes a lawyer.”

Both of Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “Does he now? Kiddo, listen to me.” He crouched down so that he was on eye level with Dean. “You and your brother aren’t so great at this whole emotions thing. Sam _thinks_ he’s excited about law school, but I’m almost positive that he’s just trying to convince himself. He thinks it’s what he _should_ want now that the Apocalypse is over. But Cassie and I think that Sam is a lot more like you than either of you realize.”

Dean stopped sucking his thumb and looked between his daddy and his uncle. That couldn’t mean what it sounded like… could it?

Gabriel smiled. “Graduating is important to Sam, and I understand that. But it’s gonna be really rough on him. He didn’t give himself a chance to rest or relax after everything you’ve both been through. I think he’ll be burnt out and desperate by that point… same as you were when your daddy came to find you.” He squeezed Dean’s free hand. “I’m planning to ask him if he’d like to be my nestling.”

“What?!” Dean squeaked, shocked. “Sammy would never go for that!”

“I would’ve said the same thing about you a year ago,” Gabriel said, giving him a pointed look. Dean flushed and sulked, nuzzling into Castiel’s shoulder. Both angels smiled at him.

“But… Sammy wants to be a lawyer,” Dean said.

“Dreams can change, kiddo. And even if Sam says no, which I doubt will be the case, he’s your little brother and he loves you. He’d never leave you behind, Dean. Ever.” Gabriel looked completely sure of what he was saying. “Just because you two are at different points in your lives now doesn’t mean you stop being brothers.”

That made sense when Dean thought about it, though he wasn’t wholly convinced. And now he had a new concern. He looked at Gabriel and the question popped out: “If Sammy becomes your nestling, does that mean you won’t have time for me anymore?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. So did Gabriel’s. “What? No! Of course not. You’re my sweet little nephew. I will always have time for you, baby.” Gabriel crowded into the chair with them, which really wasn’t big enough for three full-sized men: he made it bigger with a flick of his fingers, then hugged both Castiel and Dean. “You’re both stuck with me for life whether you like it or not.”

“Okay,” Dean said in a tiny voice as Gabriel wrapped his wings around them. He cuddled in closer to his daddy and uncle, accepting the pacifier his daddy offered him. He felt hands on his wings moments later, just lightly combing through the feathers, and that was actually kind of soothing, especially when fingers also started to run through his hair.


	62. Chapter 62

Bobby’s spare table could literally not withstand the amount of food that Jody and Gabriel piled onto it. When they weren’t looking, Castiel had to use a flicker of grace to reinforce the table and keep it from collapsing. It would be a shame to see that much food go to waste, especially when Sam, Dean and Bobby were wearing identical expressions of excitement. All three of them were practically drooling.

The six of them sat down around the table. Jody said a prayer to God as thanks for their meal. Castiel watched Dean out of the corner of his eye during the prayer, noticing that, while Dean didn’t participate, he didn’t seem to be as uncomfortable as he would’ve been before either. That was good. Religion, or lack thereof, mattered very little for hatchlings or nestlings, but Castiel didn’t want Dean to hate his Father. That could get awkward in the future.

“Bobby, will you carve the turkey?” Jody said, handing him the knife. “Dig in, everyone.” She was flushed with exertion but glowing as Sam and Gabriel both stood up and went over to the table where the food was laid out. Dean was slower to pick up his plate, and Castiel guessed why: Dean was no longer used to getting his own food. He ate what Castiel – or more commonly, Gabriel – fed him.

Castiel picked up his own plate and stood. He waited until Dean got up and then stepped over to the table with him. “Why don’t you hold our plates?” he said, more for Sam’s benefit than Dean’s, and slid his plate into Dean’s free hand.

He piled small quantities of most of the food onto both their plates, avoiding the broccoli and peas for Dean. Bobby topped both plates off with some turkey and then they sat. Human food didn’t taste quite as good as it had when Castiel was falling, but he could tell that Jody’s food was very enjoyable. Dean was eating with gusto, making soft moans of appreciation and sneaking Sparks little bits of turkey under the table. Even Gabriel was stuffing himself.

“Oh, Gabriel got wine,” Jody said, jumping up from the table. She went into the kitchen and returned holding two bottles of wine, one red and one white. She poured herself and Sam some of the white, then red for Bobby. Gabriel also requested white. Castiel waved her off, so Jody turned to Dean.

“Um, red,” Dean said, darting a nervous look in Castiel’s direction. He was clearly uncertain of what to do, reluctant to admit to Sam, Bobby or Jody that he was no longer drinking, but knowing that Castiel wouldn’t be pleased if he did. He looked at the half-full glass like it might explode.

Gabriel shot a smile in Castiel’s direction. His fingers twitched as he reached for his own glass of wine. “Go ahead, Dean-o. I flew to France to get this. It’s the best wine you’ll ever taste.”

It was a sign of how much Dean’s trust in them had built that Dean reached out and picked up the glass. At one time, he would’ve hesitated, trying to figure out whether Gabriel was setting him up to get in trouble. Castiel watched as Dean brought the wine glass to his lips and sipped. Dean tensed in surprise when he tasted the “wine” in his glass, which was actually tinted grape juice. 

“Good, isn’t it?” Gabriel asked, grinning.

“You’re right. Best I’ve ever tasted,” Dean said with a small smile, setting his glass down. “So Bobby, how’s married life?”

Bobby rolled his eyes and Jody swatted at him. The attention left Dean as everyone began to eat. The only other snag during the meal was when Dean suddenly stiffened and then stood up, blurting out “bathroom” as he sprinted out of the room at a dead run. His departure was so abrupt that Castiel felt no one would think twice when he followed, ostensibly to make sure that Dean was okay.

Really, though, he already knew what had happened. And sure enough he found Dean in the bathroom, facing the wall with his hands clenched into fists. There were tears in his eyes when Castiel pulled him into a hug. “I barely stopped myself,” Dean said, clearly mortified. “I almost pissed myself in the same room!”

“They wouldn’t have known,” Castiel soothed, though he knew that for Dean, that was a small comfort at this point. He rubbed Dean’s back and whispered reassurances until Dean, with a small shudder and choked gasp, finally relieved himself in his diaper. Then he flew them up to the bedroom and laid Dean down on the changing table so that Castiel could quickly change his diaper.

“I hate this,” Dean said as he sat up afterwards. He looked distressed and embarrassed. “I hate this part of it. It sucks.”

“I know,” Castiel said simply, giving him another hug. He suspected that Dean didn’t actually hate the diapers as much as he let on. But that was probably part of what unsettled him so much. With time, as Dean fell more into his hatchling role and the people around them got more used to seeing him this way, Castiel was certain that Dean would get used to using them in public or around his family. It would just take a while.

He kissed Dean’s temple. “Come on, little one. I’m sure that Gabriel is itching to break into the pie. You don’t want to miss out, do you?”

“No!” Dean gasped, eyes going comically wide as that occurred to him, all thoughts of embarrassment forgotten. “Hurry, Daddy!”

Castiel held back a laugh and flew them back to the first floor so that they could walk into the kitchen together. Dean practically had a fit when he saw Gabriel sitting at the table with a huge slice of pecan pie in front of him, a big forkful inches from Gabriel’s mouth. Gabriel locked eyes with Dean, grinned, and slowly slid the forkful of pie into his mouth, making deliberate moans and groans of delight.

“Dude! I just made room for that pie!” Dean yelped. “You better not have eaten it all!”

Sam and Castiel both rolled their eyes. “I guess some things never change,” Sam whispered to Bobby, who shook his head.

“There is plenty of pie to go around, Dean,” Jody said with an amused smile. “I made two pecan pies because Bobby said they were your favorite. I also have apple pie and pumpkin, for anyone who isn’t obsessed with pecan.” 

“Pumpkin for me,” Sam said. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Castiel had to admit, he wasn’t a huge fan of sweets, but the pie was worth waiting for. Jody was right up there with Gabriel in terms of baking. He thoroughly enjoyed the small pieces of apple and pumpkin pie. Bobby and Jody both ended up with pumpkin and apple as well, since Gabriel and Dean managed to demolish the two pecan pies between them. 

Predictably, Dean had eaten a little too much. “Ugh, my stomach hurts,” he whined, collapsing on the couch beside Castiel. Bobby and Sam had volunteered to clean up. Jody was on the phone with some relatives. Castiel took the opportunity to wrap his arm around Dean’s shoulders and gently rub the baby’s belly to alleviate some of the tension. He could feel the way that Dean’s belly was rounded, so it was no wonder he was feeling some discomfort.

“I’m starting to think I need to limit your access to pecan pie. This is the second time you’ve gorged yourself,” Castiel said, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. Babies weren’t known for their impulse control, after all. It was really Castiel’s responsibility to cut Dean off, but Dean just enjoyed pie _so much_. It was next to impossible to say no to those adorable green eyes. And Gabriel urging Dean on didn’t help the matter.

“But it’s good,” Dean sighed, wiggling a little closer. He tipped his head back against Castiel’s shoulder, then turned his face into Castiel’s wings so that the feathers brushed over his lips. For a split second Castiel honestly wondered if he was going to start nursing, but he didn’t, of course. He just went boneless, and then it took all of thirty seconds for him to fall asleep.

Not that Castiel was surprised. He knew Dean had barely slept last night, and he’d missed his mid-morning nap. Dean had to be exhausted. He shifted slightly so that Dean’s neck was better supported and continued rubbing Dean’s belly. Gabriel came out of the kitchen with the last of the apple pie and sat down beside them on the couch, lifting Dean’s feet into his lap. 

“That’s so cute,” Jody said when she walked in and saw them. “I love Dean’s little wings. They’re such a nice color. The copper really suits him.”

Castiel had to admit, his wings puffed up a bit in pride. He hoped that Jody would repeat those comments where Dean could hear, because hearing positive things about his wings would be good for Dean. “It’s a good color,” he said. “I think Dean was very concerned he’d end up with pink wings.”

Jody laughed and sat in the chair. “Yeah, I can see that,” she said. “Pink wouldn’t really suit him. Green, though. Green would’ve been nice. Do you get any say in it? Or is it just random?”

“It has to do with the color of your soul,” Gabriel told her.

“So what color would mine be?”

“Only archangels can tell,” Castiel said. He could see Jody’s soul, of course. But all he could perceive was how brightly it shone (and it was bright, but the glow was dull next to Dean’s brilliance). 

Gabriel squinted at her as he put the last forkful of pie in his mouth. “Yellow,” he decided. “Not a bright yellow, but the color of that apron you have.”

“I can live with that,” Jody said, smiling. She started to say something else, but was cut off when, somewhere outside, a cat yowled in pain.

Dean jerked awake instantly. “What? Sparks?”

Bobby came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands. “I hope that cat of yours didn’t get outside, Dean. I’m in the middle of junking a bunch of old cars. There are spare parts laying all over the place. It would be easy for her to cut her paw or worse.”

“Sparks loves being outside,” Dean said, looking worried. “She goes out all the time.”

“I’ll find her,” Gabriel said, jumping up. He vanished.

“I want to look too,” Dean said. “Please?” He turned the puppy eyes on, and Castiel regretted ever telling Dean to use them as a weapon against Gabriel. Even though Castiel knew Gabriel would find Sparks easily, and probably be back in seconds, he nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ll help too,” Sam volunteered, grabbing his jacket. Bobby and Jody joined them. Castiel stepped outside first, and honestly – he just wasn’t thinking. This was Bobby’s house. It had been as thoroughly warded as was possible for as long as Castiel had known the man. He was too used to letting his guard down at Bobby’s, and thinking that nothing could touch them here.

He’d forgotten how easily persuaded humans could be, especially by demons.

He felt a ripple from Gabriel’s grace, _shockpainanger_ , and froze. Jody crashed into him. Before he could open his mouth to warn her, a similar blast caught him in the face and flung him backwards. Only he didn’t collide with Bobby’s house; he was being _banished_ , he realized distantly, and then knew nothing more.


	63. Chapter 63

“Cas!”

Dean heard Jody’s scream before he felt the shockwave. It threw him back against Sam so hard that Sam crashed back against Bobby, and it would’ve sent all three of them to the ground had Bobby not grabbed the doorframe to brace them. For a split second, the world shivered around Dean and everything faded. It was almost like flying with an angel, but completely different at the same time: it felt like something – he didn’t know what – was grabbing onto him, trying to drag him away. 

Sam grabbed his shoulder hard and yelled, “Dean!”

The world snapped back into focus. Dean gasped for breath and sagged against his brother. His skin was itchy and over-sensitive, but at least he didn’t feel like he was losing his grasp on reality. “Sammy,” he panted. “What the hell was that?”

“Demons,” Bobby said grimly, and a shiver rocked through Dean’s core. He gulped in breath and forced himself upright, staring over Jody’s shoulder. The yard was crawling with demons possessing human bodies; there had to be a good twenty from first count. At the far end of the yard, a man was standing beside the storage shed. He had his hand pressed against the wall – against a _banishing symbol_.

Holy shit. It took him a moment to put two and two together. Castiel and Gabriel had been banished, which had happened before. But Dean had been affected by it too. He hadn’t been banished, but if Sam hadn’t been here to shake him out of it… Dean swallowed hard. That, more than anything, was proof positive that he was more angel than human now.

“I thought this place was still heavily warded,” Sam hissed.

“Human,” Dean said, pointing to the man. If he squinted, he could see something dark crawling over the faces and bodies of the possessed humans. He couldn’t see the demons yet, but there was definitely something there that a part of him recognized. His heart thudded in panic. What if they were here to drag him back to hell?

Bobby swore under his breath. “They sent a human in to erase the traps,” he said with disgust. “Just enough to make it so they could get in. Son of a bitch.”

“We know you’re in there,” one of the demons called out. She was a tall girl, wearing a waitressing uniform with the name ‘Kitty’ on it. “Come out here, or we’ll kill him.” 

“What?!” The guy who’d cast the banishing spell squawked with dismay at suddenly finding himself surrounded by demons. “Oh my god, no! You promised that – urk!” He let out a choked gasp as one of the demons grabbed him around the neck. 

Something hard nudged at Dean’s lower back. He took it automatically and realized that it was a shotgun filled with salt. Sam also handed him an iron crowbar. Dean took that took, tucking it under his other arm. His hands were shaking, he realized suddenly. It had been months since he’d held any kind of a weapon. He had the disorienting thought that his daddy wouldn’t have liked it.

Jody stepped out first, since she was in the lead, armed with similar weapons. Dean, Sam and Bobby followed. Sam, Dean was glad to see, held Ruby’s knife in his hand. Kitty smiled when they were all assembled on the porch, and the thing behind her face shifted with glee. 

“We want the baby,” she cooed, her eyes flashing black.

“Fuck you,” Dean said without heat. Oh god, they really did want to drag him back to hell. In the distance, he heard the sound of baying dogs. He couldn’t help trembling with fear. He wanted his daddy _so badly_.

“You’re not getting him,” Sam said, putting a hand up in front of Dean.

“Then we’ll kill you all,” Kitty said casually, inspecting her nails. “And that dumb town. And as many people as we need to until we get what we came for.”

“No,” Dean said before Sam could respond. “I’ll… I’ll go with you.”

“No!” Sam, Bobby and Jody all exclaimed at the same time.

“It’s fine,” Dean muttered. It so wasn’t fine. He was sick with terror, tasting bile at the back of his throat. This was his worst nightmare. Where was Daddy?

Sam tried to stop him, of course, but Dean easily pushed him aside. He walked down the steps and got a half dozen steps down the walkway before Kitty grinned. Dean stopped moving, but it was too late. He heard the flick of a lighter and then the world exploded in heat. He yelped in fear and shrank back as a ring of fire – holy fire – roared around him. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

“Or maybe we’ll just kill them anyway, and then take you with us,” Kitty said, laughing.

The flames were so hot that Dean’s wings ached. He whimpered with fear as they climbed above his head, obscuring his view. But he could still hear the sound of battle breaking out. He was torn between trying to figure out a way to help and staying right where he was. Daddy had told him once, a long time ago, that holy fire could burn an angel’s wings off. Dean didn’t want to lose his wings.

He wanted Daddy.

“Daddy,” he choked out, tears spilling over. But Daddy was gone, wasn’t he? It always took Daddy and Uncle Gabriel a long time to come back from wherever they were banished to. Dean had once asked where they went, but Daddy just shook his head and didn’t answer. Wherever it was, they couldn’t fly back until the sigil’s effects stopped working. It could be minutes or hours.

By the time they got back, Sam, Bobby and Jody would be dead and Dean would be back in hell. The thought made his throat close up entirely with fear. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was trying to pull in air, but none was actually coming into his lungs. He dropped to the ground, crouching down and gasping. The flames seemed to roar higher, and he tasted soot.

“Daddy,” he sobbed again. “Uncle Gabe…” He pulled his wings in tight around him to protect them from the fire and caught a glimpse of the copper color, now dusty with soot. There was another angel he knew well that always had colorful wings, wasn’t there?

“Balthazar!” he screamed, not even stopping to let himself wonder whether Balthazar would heed his call. “Balthazar, help me!”

Before the second sentence had even passed through his lips, Dean heard a screech. It was the kind of sound that once would’ve brought him to his knees, clutching at his ears in agony. But now his ears only ached a little, and he couldn’t interpret whatever the angels were saying, but he could _feel_ their rage. Whoever had shown up was furious. Beyond the flames, Dean could see glimpses of flashing light: grace.

Suddenly the flames hissed as water was sprayed onto them. Dean tensed in fear, sobbing softly. He wasn’t sure what he would see. His eyes widened when he saw Balthazar standing there with an incredibly angry look on his face. Far from the usual smirk he wore, Balthazar’s eyes were glowing and his navy wings were extended fully, angel sword in hand. 

“Dean,” Balthazar said.

Dean lost it. He threw himself at Balthazar, wrapping both arms around the angel’s waist, and wailed. Shockingly, Balthazar didn’t push him away. He set one arm around Dean’s shoulders and wrapped both wings around him, which only Daddy and Uncle Gabriel had ever done before. Balthazar’s wings were cooler and didn’t hug him as tightly, but Dean still wept with relief.

The sounds of battle continued around them for – well, Dean didn’t know how long. He just cried into Balthazar’s chest and didn’t look up, partly because of Balthazar’s wings blocking his view and partly because he just didn’t want to see. He’d lost his shotgun and the crowbar at some point and he had no desire to ever see them again. He didn’t know why he’d bothered to take them in the first place.

“Balthazar, the demons have been destroyed,” a woman said. Dean didn’t recognize her voice. “Is Castiel’s hatchling well?”

“Well enough,” Balthazar said. “He’ll be better once we get Castiel or Gabriel back here.”

“We’re looking for them,” another woman said, probably more for Dean’s benefit than Balthazar’s. Her voice was vaguely familiar. “We’ll find them, Dean, I promise.”

Dean hiccupped and finally lifted his head, looking up as tears continued to stream down his face. Balthazar obligingly shifted his wings, letting Dean see the two angels that were standing there. One was a short woman with dark hair, but the other was Anael. Dean blinked at her, letting go of Balthazar with one hand so that he could slide his thumb into his mouth but holding on extra hard with the other hand, and Anael smiled sadly at him. 

“We’ll find them,” she repeated. “And until then, Balthazar and I will stay with you.”

“Yes, Castiel would run me through if I let anything happen to you,” Balthazar drawled. “The humans?”

“All safe.” Anael looked over her shoulder and Dean followed her gaze. Jody, Sam and Bobby were standing near the house, looking worse for the wear. An angel was standing with them, one that Sam was familiar with judging by how closely he was allowing her to stand, and healing their injuries.

All three of them were staring at Dean.

Dean immediately flushed with humiliation, suddenly realizing that his pleas for Daddy, Uncle Gabriel and Balthazar had probably been audible to anyone who was listening. And that he’d been standing here bawling into Balthazar’s chest for the past several minutes. He’d also wet himself, he realized suddenly, though he couldn’t remember when that had happened.

He wanted to move away from Balthazar and try to save face. But it was like his body had locked up. He couldn’t bring himself to move, much less let go of Balthazar. What if Balthazar disappeared? Then Dean would be alone ago, and maybe the demons would come back with their hell hounds and they’d take him back to hell and he’d end up back on the rack – 

“You’re okay, Dean,” Anael said soothingly, moving closer, and Dean realized he’d been whimpering. “We burned the demons out of existence, along with their hell hounds.” She put a hand on his back, just below Balthazar’s arm, and rubbed his back gently as she leaned in to whisper, “As long as there is an angel alive, we’ll never let the demons have one of our children.”

Choking on another sob, Dean nodded to show he’d heard and turned his face back into Balthazar’s chest. He couldn’t handle dealing with the inevitable questions that Bobby, Jody and especially Sam were bound to have. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished really hard that the three of them would just go away for a little while. Anael patted his back again and then stepped away.

“Please go back into the house,” she said, directing it at the three of them.

“Not without Dean!” Sam said. “That’s my brother.”

Anael walked away, her voice growing quieter, so Dean didn’t bother to try and listen to the conversation – well, argument she was probably now having with Sam. He knew that the decent thing to do would be to go over and assure Sam that he was fine, but he just couldn’t do it. He felt like he was falling apart, and the only thing holding him together were the angel wings wrapped around him.

“You’re wet,” Balthazar said into his ear, and Dean flushed again. “And filthy, and it’s dangerous for you to be out here in the open. I’m taking you back to your nest.”

Dean didn’t even think of protesting. If he couldn’t have Daddy, then he wanted to go home. He nodded and felt the world twist. Fresh panic gripped him, remembering the banishing sigil, but before it really had the chance to manifest, Balthazar had landed. Dean’s feet hit the ground for just a second before Balthazar was effortlessly lifting him up onto his hip and carrying him towards the nest.


	64. Chapter 64

Balthazar's grace, as quickly as it came and went, was like fine wine, leaving a cloying taste in Dean's mouth. He _hated_ the feel of it after having grown used to Daddy and Uncle Gabriel, but the alternative would have meant Balthazar physically changing his diaper and Dean didn't think either of them was ready for that. As it was, he couldn't deny that it felt much better to be in a dry diaper.

"Daddy?" he asked, looking up at Balthazar with wet eyes. They hadn't been in the nest for more than a few minutes, but - if possible - it made Dean want his daddy even more. Being here without Daddy or Uncle Gabriel felt wrong now, especially when the nest looked the same as it had when they left. Daddy's coat was draped over the back of the couch where he'd forgotten it, and Uncle Gabriel had left a half-drunk glass of water on the coffee table.

"Nothing yet," Balthazar said. He was standing, hovering really, over Dean, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself. His wings were folded tightly against his back now. Dean wished he'd sit down and wrap his wings around Dean again, but he didn't know how to ask for that. With Daddy and Uncle Gabriel, he never had to ask.

"I want my daddy," Dean whispered, as though Balthazar didn't know that, as though he was sharing some great, dramatic secret. He covered his face with his hands as he started to cry. It was humiliating, but it was like his body didn't know how to do anything else. Whereas before he took frustration and fear out on alcohol, sex or long drives in the Impala, now he all he could do was cry. 

"We're looking, Dean, I swear," Balthazar told him. "There are a finite number of places that angels can be sent. It's only a matter of time. The only reason they haven't come back yet is because their wings aren't working. You know how banishing sigils work."

That only made Dean wail louder. The thought of Uncle Gabriel being unable to use his wings was bad enough. Uncle Gabriel took a lot of pride in his wings. He was forever flapping them around and stretching them out and preening. But Daddy? Daddy had spent almost a year being unable to fly because he was falling (falling because of Dean). A year in which, even though he had mostly been quiet on the subject, Dean knew that Daddy had been suffering. Daddy had to be feeling just as awful now as he did then, and Dean wasn't even with him!

"Oh Father, don't cry," Balthazar said, sounding alarmed. 

Dean wanted to say that he didn't want to be crying, but he couldn't stop sobbing long enough to do that. He jumped when Balthazar suddenly shoved a pacifier into his mouth and then picked him up. Before Dean knew it, Balthazar was patting him (a little roughly) on the back and walking around the house. Dean gulped in breath around his pacifier, still crying, but started sucking, winding his arms around Balthazar's neck.

Why did this feel familiar?

Oh. Suddenly, he remembered the last time he'd been this distressed when Daddy wasn't around. It was after those demons attacked them and Daddy got stabbed trying to protect Dean. Uncle Gabriel had picked Dean up and carried him like this, trying to get him to calm down. Apparently Balthazar was trying to take a page out of Uncle Gabriel's book. 

Really, it just made Dean want Uncle Gabriel even more. Because Uncle Gabriel always knew how to make Dean smile, even if it was just throwing Dean down on the bed and blowing kisses on his belly until Dean was squealing with giggles, and he knew how to distract Dean when Daddy wasn't around. He whimpered a little and buried his face in Balthazar's shoulder, trying not to cry too loudly. 

They'd been walking around the nest for a long time before Dean heard a very familiar sound. His head shot up and he spit his pacifier out as he stared intently at the door, listening for it again. In all the confusion, he'd forgotten all about Sparks. Her crying had been the thing to lead everyone outside in the first place. Dean hadn't even thought about the fact that she might be dead or wounded... but had he really heard her crying again just now?

Sparks meowed again and Dean cried out, squirming out of Balthazar's arms. He rushed over to the door and threw it open to find Anael standing there with Sparks in her arms. Dean stared at them in horror. Sparks didn't look good. Her right front paw was bandaged and so was her tail. She was missing patches of fur on her chest and belly. She mewed when she saw Dean, a little sound that broke his heart.

"Sparks!" he sobbed, lifting trembling hands towards her.

"She's okay, Dean," Anael said soothingly, stooping down a little. "I'm sorry I didn't have enough grace left to heal her all the way. When Uncle Gabriel comes home, he'll be able to take care of the rest. She's not in any pain, but just be careful." She gently placed Sparks into Dean's arms. 

"Sparks, I'm sorry," Dean whispered, staring down at the kitten. "I forgot you. M'sorry." Sparks was also missing the tip of her left ear, he realized. Maybe that's why she'd cried out in the first place. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and he gulped back sobs as Sparks nuzzled his cheek. She began to purr as she licked his chin, her rough tongue washing away his tears.

He pressed his face into her fur for a moment, silently overwhelmed with gratitude that she, at least, was here and okay, then looked up at Anael. "Thank you."

Anael's face softened. "You're welcome, sweetie. I'm going to hang out here with you and Uncle Balthazar until your daddy and Uncle Gabriel come home. Is that okay?"

Uncle Balthazar? Dean made a face at that, but nodded. He wasn't as uncomfortable being around Anael as he had been before. Yeah it was kind of awkward that the two of them had once had sex, and that Dean had entertained thoughts of dating Anna long term. But it was blatantly obvious that Anael no longer saw him as Dean Winchester, awesome and badass hunter of the supernatural. It was possible she didn't even think about her time as Anna.

No, all she - and the other angels that Dean had encountered during the Apocalypse - saw was Dean, hatchling of Castiel. It was like the past had been erased and whatever he'd done didn't matter anymore. The fact that he was a hatchling came before everything else. And surprisingly, Dean realized he was okay with that. He liked Anael (the fact that she was Charlie's mommy was a huge bonus, because Charlie was really cool) and having another angel around right now wasn't a bad thing, not if it meant there was even less of a chance that any more demons were going to come calling. 

It did occur to him though, to be grateful that Zachariah was dead. There was no way in hell that Dean wanted to know what Zachariah would've been like around a hatchling. The thought of Zachariah trying to give him a hug was way too much after such a hideous day. He shuddered a little and clutched Sparks more tightly, blinking back even more tears.

Anael misunderstood his shudder. "Oh, Dean. We're going to find them soon, I promise." She stepped in to pull him into a hug, though she didn't wrap her wings around him. Dean kept holding onto Sparks but allowed her to hug him. It felt a little weird to be hugged and not feel dwarfed by the angel doing it; physically, Dean was taller than both Daddy's and Gabriel's vessels, but he was always aware now that their grace made them enormous. He couldn't feel that with Anael. It was just another reminder that his daddy and Uncle Gabriel weren't here.

"Why don't you sit down on the couch with Uncle Balthazar?" she suggested, running a hand through his hair. "I'll make you up a bottle."

"M'not very hungry," Dean mumbled. It was hard to believe that they'd just finished a huge Thanksgiving meal like three or four hours ago. Actually, after the excitement of everything he felt a little sick. He really regretted stuffing himself with pie now.

"I know you're not, but some of Cas's grace will help to settle you down," Anael said. She nudged him into the nest and closed the door behind her. "Go on. Go sit." She sounded firm enough that Dean wasn't sure how to argue, so he just obeyed. He walked over to the couch and sat down beside Balthazar, lowering Sparks into his lap. The kitten mewed softly, but curled up into a small ball.

"Do you want me to read to you?" Balthazar said.

"Um... okay." Actually, Dean didn't want that at all. Daddy always read to him at bedtime. Dean loved falling asleep to the familiar sound of that rumbling voice in his ears. He wanted to cry again - he wanted to just cry and cry until Daddy finally came home - but he took a deep breath and shoved the feelings back. He could be a big boy for a little while. 

He turned towards Balthazar and was very surprised to see that Balthazar wasn't holding one of the novels that Daddy always read to him at night. Right now, they were working their way through the Percy Jackson series. Instead, Balthazar was holding a stack of picture books. Right away, Dean scowled. He remembered the last time he'd looked at these books. That was when they'd gone shopping for the first time, and those nestlings had teased him for being too young to understand Enochian. 

"You said I'm too stupid for those," he said.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I said at all. You're a _baby_ , Dean. Stop expecting yourself to be able to do things that are literally impossible for you to do at this point."

"Those nestlings could."

"They were also several years further into maturing," Balthazar pointed out, not unkindly. "Not to mention they were nestlings, not hatchlings. It has nothing do with your current level of intelligence. You literally do not have the kind of grace you'll need to read or speak our language. That's why humans are incapable of learning to read Enochian fluently."

Our language. Dean looked at him in shock.

"Given time, you will learn," Balthazar went on, seemingly not noticing he'd said anything noteworthy. "Once you are producing your own grace and are open to the conduits of heaven, your daddy will teach you. Your grace will learn to interpret the language. But you have to be patient."

"I don't like being patient," Dean said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I've noticed," Balthazar said dryly. He leaned against the couch and opened up one of the books. It was the same one Dean had been looking at in the store that day, he realized. He didn't think Daddy or Uncle Gabriel had bought this for him, which meant... had Balthazar bought these for him?!

"I hope I didn't miss story time," Anael said, coming out of the kitchen. She was holding a bottle of milk in her hand, which she handed to Dean as she sat down on the couch. Dean still wasn't that hungry, but he put the nipple in his mouth out of politeness. At the first suck, the cool taste of grace and milk hit his tongue and he whimpered, seized by a desire for his daddy that was so strong it hurt - and for Uncle Gabriel, who never gave Dean just plain milk, but always flavored it with spices or honey or chocolate.

Anael shushed him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Start reading, Bal," she said, nudging Balthazar.

"I would if you would be quiet," Balthazar said. Anael just smirked. He rolled his eyes and looked down at the first page, reading it out loud. Dean leaned against him, renewed tears rolling down his cheeks, quietly drinking his bottle and looking at the pictures while Sparks slept.


	65. Chapter 65

When the world finally settled around Castiel, he felt as though he were a piece of clothing that someone had tossed into a dryer. Having accompanied Dean to a laundromat once and watched the process of washing and drying clothing, it was the only way he could think to describe the unsettled state of his stomach. Normally banishing sigils didn’t carry quite so much impact, so that demon must’ve added something a little extra.

He pushed himself up from where he’d been laying flat on the ground and looked around. It was a good thing that angels were impervious to changes in temperature because there was snow all around him for as far as even Castiel’s eyes could see. The air was cold and damp, stinging his face, and the wind was strong. A human, Castiel realized, would’ve frozen to death in seconds.

And then he thought of Dean, who was still more human than he was angel for all that he’d been consuming grace on a regular basis, and fear flooded through him. Theoretically, Dean shouldn’t have been affected by the banishing sigil. But if there was one thing that Castiel had learned about Dean Winchester, it was that he was a constant surprise. If Dean had been banished with them, then it was possible he was here too.

“Dean?” he called out, but the word was stolen by the wind. Castiel scowled and tried to reach out to his hatchling, but the connection between them was muted at best. When he directed all of his attention towards Dean, he could feel fear and panic. His concern mounted. If Dean wasn’t here, that meant he was at the mercy of demons with only Sam, Bobby and Jody to protect him. And while Castiel was confident that the three humans would die to protect Dean, that unfortunately didn’t mean much.

He had to get back to Dean. He stood on legs that were far too wobbly for his liking, automatically pulling his flimsy jacket closer around him. Something was blocking his connection to other angels; when he reached out his grace, it was like running into a brick wall. There were angel wards around, Castiel realized. He either had to destroy the wards or move beyond them, and he had no idea where the demons would’ve placed the wards. He started to walk.

It was hard walking through snow. Harder than Castiel had expected. Several times he took a step only to sink into a drift that rose to his waist. He dug himself out each time, determined to keep going. The slow pace was agonizing. He couldn’t help dwelling on how terrified Dean had to be right now. Castiel had _promised_ him that he would never have to go back to hell.

Because it would destroy Dean to go back there now. Dean had come a long way in terms of recuperating; his nightmares about hell weren’t nearly as frequent, and he was finally putting on weight and smiling more. He didn’t flinch at shadows or feel the need to sleep with a knife under the pillow or spit out food because it tasted like the ashes of hell fire. His soul was finally starting to heal.

But if he went… Castiel shivered. It would take seconds for the demons to destroy the progress that had taken months to nurture. One minute on the rack would shatter Dean forever, and no amount of love or care would be able to put him back together. The thought made his heart ache and he surged forward, determined to protect Dean no matter what the cost. 

He kept walking.

“Cassie!”

Castiel only stopped at the faint sound of a voice on the wind. At first he thought he’d been imagining things, but when he turned his head he saw a blob in the distance. Suddenly, he remembered Gabriel. His brother had been banished by the same sigil, so it stood to reason they’d ended up in the same place. Castiel hadn’t even thought about him. Ashamed, he swung around and started making his way in that direction.

Gabriel met him halfway, face pale and with ice crusted along his eyelashes. “Where’s Dean?!” he bellowed the instant they were within hearing distance. An unexpected swell of affection for his brother warmed Castiel to the tips of his toes. Of course Gabriel’s first thought was for Dean as well.

“He’s not here,” Castiel answered, certain of that now. He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking for – it could’ve been two hours or ten hours or more. The fear and panic radiating off Dean had reached a crescendo not long after he started before tapering off. Now, all Dean had been feeling for hours was relief. He knew that meant that Dean wasn’t here, and hoped that it meant Dean was safe.

“Fucking demons,” Gabriel hissed, grabbing Castiel’s arm and reeling him in. “I’m going to smite them all if they touched him.”

“He feels relieved right now,” Castiel said. He didn’t have to voice the thought that went along with that, which was that there was no way Dean would be feeling relieved if he was in the hands of demons. “He may have had the sense to call for Balthazar or someone else.” Not that Dean knew a lot of other angels. Castiel wanted to change that, but frankly there weren’t many angels out there that he trusted.

Gabriel nodded. “Come on. I think I know where the wards end. This way.”

“How can you tell? I feel like I’ve been walking around in circles.”

“You probably have.” Gabriel grimaced as the snow picked up and pulled on Castiel’s arm. Castiel went with him. One direction was good as the other when you couldn’t see anything but snow.

They’d been walking for maybe another two or three hours before… well, it was liked they crossed an invisible line in the snow, which was pretty much exactly what happened. The voices of heaven opened up in Castiel’s head, all of them clamoring for him and Gabriel, and his bond with Dean blossomed, bringing relief, terror and longing into breathtaking clarity. Castiel stopped so suddenly that Gabriel stumbled, immediately reaching back to Dean to soothe him as much as he could.

“Gabriel!” a handful of their brothers and sisters appeared, all wearing various looks of relief. Amongst them, Castiel recognized Hannah and Samandriel. 

“Where is Dean?” Gabriel demanded, not even sparing a greeting.

“He’s with Balthazar and Anael,” Samandriel said, gripping Castiel’s arm in welcome. “He called out for Balthazar when the demons surrounded him in holy fire.”

Holy fire? Had Castiel a beating heart, that would’ve stopped it. His grace trembled. His wings weren’t functioning yet, so he leaned into Samandriel. “Take me to Dean _now_.”

“Me too,” Gabriel said, grabbing Samandriel’s other arm. “I want to know exactly who ordered that attack,” he added to the other angels, who nodded and vanished. 

Samandriel spread his wings. He wasn’t used to flying with the weight of his brethren, and so the trip lasted a fraction longer than it would’ve otherwise. Castiel chafed at every passing micro second, frantic with his need to get to Dean. He was moving before their feet had even touched the ground, racing towards the nest. Words couldn’t describe the relief that poured through him when the front door was thrown open and Dean bolted out.

“Daddy!” Dean screamed, flying down the steps.

“Dean.” Castiel caught him up in a hug, lifting Dean off the ground. He clutched his wailing baby tightly, immeasurably grateful that Dean was safe. “Thank Father. Oh, _Dean_.” He sank to his knees, pressing his face into Dean’s hair as Dean sobbed into his shirt. Thankfully, Samandriel had warmed and dried their clothing on the trip.

Gabriel set one hand on Castiel’s shoulder and the other on Dean’s hair. Dean sobbed harder at that, one trembling hand freeing itself from Castiel’s shirt to grab at Gabriel’s hand. His knuckles turned white with how tightly he was holding on. But Gabriel was holding on just as fiercely, his eyes damp as he swooped down to press a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

Anael and Balthazar came down the steps more slowly. Anael smiled at them. “I’m glad that you’re both safe,” she said. “I have to get back to Charlie.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said to her, meaning it with everything that he was. He reached out to her, the first time he’d done so since she’d returned from being brainwashed, pouring his gratitude into his grace. Anael eagerly received his grace, twining around him and glowing with relief that they were all unharmed. She would, she said, bring Charlie to come check up on them in a couple of days, once they were up to receiving visitors.

Through her, Castiel saw what had happened. He saw Anael at home, playing with Charlie, only to be interrupted by Balthazar’s panicked call that Dean was in trouble. He saw Anael leaving Charlie with one of her human friends – literally not even taking the time to explain, just touching down long enough to leave Charlie and then going – and racing to Bobby’s house. He saw Balthazar and the other angels who’d answered his call, all of them furious but Balthazar _incandescent_ with rage, smiting demons left and right.

And he saw Dean, huddled in the middle of holy fire, crying from fear. He saw Samandriel extinguishing the flames with Bobby’s garden hose, while Dean threw himself at Balthazar. He saw Balthazar cradling Dean, arms and wings wrapped tightly around the baby, protecting him from the battle while also shielding him from having to watch the demons being torn apart.

Anael stopped flooding his mind with images then, still smiling kindly. She nodded to Gabriel and left, taking Samandriel with her, and leaving the four of them alone. Balthazar crossed his arms. “Your hatchling is surprisingly resourceful,” he said mildly. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said for a second time, meaning it even more than he had with Anael. Dean had called for Balthazar, which he’d known how to do only because Balthazar had spent some time with them, and Balthazar had been the one to summon the other angels. Without him, Dean would probably be dead.

And Castiel didn’t think he would be capable of handling that. Dean had always been important to him: from the first moment that Castiel had laid hand on him in hell and decreed that the Righteous Man had been saved, Dean had changed his life. But now that Dean was Castiel’s hatchling, he was _everything_. Dean’s death would tear a hole in Castiel’s grace, in his life, that could never be replaced.

He tried to pour that sentiment into the grace he reached out to Balthazar with; beside him, he was aware that Gabriel was doing the same. Balthazar let out a quiet gasp, eyes widening as their grace flooded into him. It was something that didn’t happen to him very often, Castiel suspected. Balthazar was largely removed from heaven, preferring to spend time doing his own thing than with any of his brethren. His grace welcomed the contact, practically purring.

“Daddy,” Dean sobbed again, and Castiel regrettably withdrew his grace to turn his attention to Dean. He shushed the baby, climbing to his feet and lifting Dean with him. The baby whimpered and clung to him even more desperately, locking his legs around Castiel’s waist like he thought Castiel might put him down.

“Shh, little one. I’m right here. Uncle Gabe and I aren’t going anywhere,” Castiel cooed. He started to walk towards the nest. Gabriel had no choice but to follow, seeing as how Dean was still holding onto his hand and didn’t seem like he was going to let go anytime soon.

Balthazar accompanied them into the house, still speechless from the grace. Clearly, he, Anael and Dean had been set up on the couch: Sparks, Dean’s bee, and his fox were both there, though the toys had been tossed aside when Dean realized they were there. Castiel also noticed a blanket from his own bed, as well as several Enochian picture books he didn’t remember buying for Dean. It occurred to him that Balthazar must’ve bought them, probably because Dean had sulked so much over them that day.

Castiel sank down onto the couch, holding Dean on his lap. Gabriel sat down too, scooping Sparks up and letting Castiel lean into him so that Dean was partially between them. Balthazar, after Castiel nodded to him, sat on Castiel’s free side and picked up the two toys, holding them so that they were within easy reach of Dean. Castiel smiled at him, too full of emotion to do much more than that, and focused on stroking and comforting his baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/Tsuki_Chibi)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nephilim](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524231) by [SLunne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLunne/pseuds/SLunne)




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